Black Knight Castled King
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: Things change, and for this black king and his white knight it's not always for the better. Sequel to Black King White Knight and Fathers. Nate/Eliot one shots and drabbles.
1. Late Nights and Backfired Schemes

**Notes:** This is the sequel to Black King White Knight. Like that story it will be a series of one shots, drabbles, and short arcs about Nate/Eliot and the team. Everything here takes place after Fathers (which is a long fic in the Black King White Knight verse) and starts directly after the end of the Order 23 Job though it will likely last for at least the rest of the season. In this the Order 23 Job is the first Job they do after returning from Kentucky. I know the last chapter for Fathers isn't up yet (my beta still has it) but it can be read without reading the last chapter.  
On another note this is the first of three parts to "Shelter and the Storm" an arc that ties up a few loose ends and tips us into the next bit of drama and whatnot.

* * *

**Concerning Late Nights, Backfired Schemes, and Apartment Keys  
**_After the Order 23 Job Hardison and Nate talk about a failed plan and the fallout of Fathers_

* * *

Nate was still cleaning up mess the others had left in his apartment during the post job celebrations, wondering when or if Eliot would show up, when someone knocked on the door. It was the fact they were knocking, rather than letting themselves in like Eliot (and Parker for that matter) would, that clued him in to who it was. Short, soft but confident, raps. Hardison.

It was late, which by itself wasn't odd. Nate knew better than anyone else on the team the odd hours Hardison kept. Back in L.A. at the offices it had often been a toss up which one of them left last. More than a few times one or both of them had spent the night wrapped up in separate worlds, sharing the silence without even seeing one another.

But Nate knew Hardison had set up his own Hackers den in the old manager's office somewhere on the first floor. Hardison only did con work in Nate's apartment when they were working on an active case and others would be passing through. He never knocked on the door in the middle of the night. There wasn't much of a point.

They'd almost never spoken to each other on those nights back in L.A., At least not until some of the final days of Leverage and Consulting when Nate was on his downward spiral and starting to spend more long nights in the offices. Hardison had started to approached him a couple of times, finding excuses to nudge him out of the office. At the time Nate had thought Hardison had gotten used to having more alone time in the office when Nate and Eliot started spending more nights together than apart. Looking back all those attempts had occurred after the juror job, which was around when Hardison found out.

A small, almost sheepish, smile appeared on Nate's face. He realized Hardison had been trying to nudge Nate toward home and Eliot and hopefully a scenario involving less booze. "Use your key." Nate called out, piling dishes in the sink and starting to rinse them, settling into old patterns he'd learned and relearned more than once over the years.

Hardison let himself in and made his way to the kitchen, setting down his laptop bag and getting an orange soda, trying to look casual. Nate didn't need to be half the profiler he was to know this was anything but casual.

He let the pretending go on as he finished the dishes, turning off the water before Hardison finally broke the silence. "Our scheming backfired." Nate turned, raising an eyebrow at Hardison before going to make coffee. "What? You'd prefer I use plotting instead?"

"I like to think of it more as a plan." Nate said over his shoulder. "Scheme has a negative connotation to it."

"Well whatever you call it it proves my theory one more time, man. Bad things happen when you con your crew." He sighed and took a sip of his soda. "Even if it's for a good cause."

Nate rubbed his face, not liking the possibilities of where this was going. "What happened?"

Hardison gave a short bitter laugh. "Oh you just happened to have us steal somthin' full of the same thing you said you didn't want to come anywhere close to on this job." He tapped on his keyboard. "'oh Hardison, by the way, I want you to find a case where there'll be no kids' you said 'we just want to ease him back into this.' You said. 'He won't even notice and it'll give him some time and fights to set his head back on straight.' Yeah right." Hardison's voice was getting a little snippy as he twisted the computer screen around to show security footage of Eliot catching sight of something out of the view of the camera. A single click showed a boy edging away from his father. "Eliot was forty feet away and talking to me and he still caught sight of this kid."

Nate cursed internally, setting the coffee pot down a little harder than he meant. Yeah, they had been trying to keep Eliot away from kids for just a job or two. After the mess that went down with Eliot's step father they all knew it would take a little while before Eliot's control was back to the way it should be. Going after a mark who'd been hurting kids would have probably been the dumbest thing they could do.

So of course a job they were sure would keep kid exposure to a bare minimum had walked Eliot right past a boy who was being abused by his father.

On the first job back after the Father's Job ended in Eliot killing his own abusive stepfather.

That wasn't just a disaster waiting to happen.

"Now the good news is I don't think Eliot went off the rails more than just to threaten the guy and give his name to that marshal who owed our cover's a favor. Kid's gonna be alright." Hardison said turning the screen back and continuing to type. "Problem is Eliot turned his cell phone off two hours ago so hell knows what he's getting himself into cause I can't track him without turning on his tracking device." He glanced toward Nate.

They both knew it was only because of Nate and a close brush with death that Eliot had agreed to getting a tracking device implanted under his skin. Even then he only agreed if it was kept off except under dire circumstances.

Nate turned the pot on the brew and waited, thinking, before shaking his head. Of the team Hardison was easiest to predict with Eliot and Sophie tied and Parker coming in as least. Recent events, though, had just a hint of Eliot's control unraveled and he was less easy to predict than Nate was used to. Still, he knew Eliot, and he was beginning to think the hint of this other Eliot was one Nate had known ten years ago. That Eliot wasn't really so different from theirs. "He's probably either watching to make sure the marshal picks up the kid or finding a fight to blow off some steam after the fact."

Hardison nodded and a sort of silence fell over the kitchen. Nate wandered around, restoring order after the earlier chaos, waiting for Hardison to either decide to say what he was hanging around to say or leave. Nate knew Eliot wasn't the only one effected by their recent trip to Kentucky. Every one on the team had one reason or another to have slight hang-ups in the aftermath.

Surprisingly Parker and Sophie both seemed to have gotten mostly over it. Eliot was dealing with it the way he always dealt with things, a potentially unhealthy mix of suppression, bar brawls, and occasional glimmers of working through it. Nate was dealing with it with the same zen acceptance of someone whose managed to get through much worse scenarios.

Hardison was still trying to wrap his mind around it, and everything else that had happened. This was probably not at all helped along by the little day trip Hardison had taken when the danger was over. Not if the fact he'd come home at three in the morning afterwards, claiming he'd been catching up with some old friends but looking exhausted in ways Nate had never seen him before, was any indicator.

After Nate ran out of things to do he gave up. He was the team's leader and 'boss' as Eliot sometimes called him during a job.

But there were some days when he felt like he was playing a camp counselor.

With a sigh he poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table across from Hardison, giving him another moment to speak. Finally Nate broke the silence. "How was the visit with your mother?" Hardison looked up, gaping at Nate. "I knew. It wasn't too hard to figure out as well as I know you."

Hardison took another moment to absorb, finishing off his orange soda. After a moment of processing the hacker shrugged. "She was same as I remember her, half drunk at eleven in the morning." He shook his head. "Was pretty happy to see me for awhile, said I looked like I'd made somthin' out of myself. That my dad would have been proud." He winced a little. "We started talking and it was, weird? I don't know. I havn't talked to her in five years. And the longer we talked the more she got over that and the more I got reminded about why." He got up and went to get another soda. "She ended up throwing me out. 'm not even sure why."

Hardison, apparently having said all he meant to, started to pack up his computer. Nate watched, drinking his coffee. There was a lot that went unsaid in that brief summary. Everything from hurt to resentment flattened out and rearranged into Hardison's half joking tone to make it plain it wasn't actually a big deal. With a light hearted nature and a reach toward the humor Hardison had made a good show of covering up the fact his own history had left him only slightly less broken than the rest of them.

Some days Nate idly wondered if there wouldn't be some benefits in having a resident therapist around to work out the team's emotional baggage.

"Hang around if you want." Nate said getting up. "I'm waiting up to see if Eliot turns up. I won't kick you out if you want to stick around."

"And watch you two do a rendition of Brokeback Mountain? Hell no!" Hardison replied with suitable twitches. There was something there though, a little smile once the feigned disgust had faded. Hardison had gotten the subtext of what Nate wasn't saying.

_Even if your mom kicked you out we won't. I won't._

Hardison headed toward the door but stopped halfway there, pausing and making up his mind. "Hey Nate. Um… you an' Eliot. Have you got a place together again yet?"

Nate mentally told himself that this was not a situation to be awkward over. Hardison probably meant well enough and was worried about security or communications or something. Judging by how Hardison found out it had been a problem at least once. "Not yet. We've been a little preoccupied." That was a bit of an understatement.

Hardison hesitated a moment then dug around in his pocket and tossed a key to Nate. "Top floor. Security systems already in place, plus Tvs, computers, and whatnot though unfurnished otherwise. Kitchen still needs to be outfitted, figured Eliot'd be better at that. Plus, Martha Stewart? One creepy lady." He started walking towards the door. "Strategically located for safety and to prevent breakdown of communications in emergencies. Plus I don't have a fifteen-year-old daughter who might tell the nice stranger she meets at four in the morning about you guys. Tell the girls if you want. I'm forgetting right now that I even know you guys are up there. Oh, by the way, you're still paying rent."

It took Nate a moment to process what Hardison had said, another to get over the fact Hardison had just more or less given him and Eliot an apartment, and one more to put together a response. By then Hardison had beat a hasty retreat.

Nate looked down at the key in his hand and gave a long sigh, ignoring the rueful grin on his face.

It seemed Hardison wasn't quite done nudging him towards Eliot and "home".


	2. Bar Chats, and NotDrunken Confessions

**Notes: **Part Two of Shelter and the Storm. I also should clarify. Yes, Black King White Knight is offically closed. If I end up writting anything that takes place in verse between the end of Two Knight Opener (which will be posted eventually and be basically from the start of the series to when they get in a somewhat serious relationship) to Fathers I'll post it as part of Black King White Knight.

* * *

**Concerning Bar Chats, Not-Quite-Drunken Confessions, and Apartment Keys  
**_After the Order 23 Job Eliot imitates Nate and Hardison imitates Eliot in a non-touchy sense.  
_

_

* * *

_

It wasn't that Eliot didn't drink, it was that he knew to make sure he didn't get drunk. When you lived your life in a state of somewhat constant vigilance, not quite ever entirely sure an old enemy wouldn't come to call and try to drag you off to some dark hole (or just kill you on the spot) getting drunk was just a stupid idea.

Being drunk had nearly gotten him killed when he was twenty one. It had almost gotten that entire village in Croatia killed when he was twenty six.

They say third times a charm and he had no intention of him drinking himself into oblivion being the reason the entire leverage team got killed.

Which was probably the only reason right then that he was nursing a glass of the house's best whiskey but not actually drinking it. He was just a little buzzed, which was actually more than he'd normally let himself, and he knew a little more would start to actually impair him. It wouldn't be much, but it was more than acceptable.

He should really head upstairs. Nate was probably wondering where he was and if that was Hardison he'd caught sight of heading upstairs than Nate was probably worried. There would be words and Nate would ask why Eliot had gone off the rails for the first time since the Two Horse Job.

Of course Nate would know already. He'd just ask to see if Eliot would give a straight answer in the no win way parents get going sometimes which was just wrong since he was sleeping with Nate. Fucking control freak.

Eliot put down the glass and pushed it away. His head was a little more foggy than he liked. He'd blame it on the alcohol. He'd blame it on a lot of things.

Honestly, he knew he was just still a little off his game after everything that had happened. The hospital situation seems like it should have been nice closure. He came back to the job and saved some kid and he wasn't just some defenseless runt step-grandson of the most powerful man in town. He didn't have to be afraid anymore. His step father was dead and gone. He'd rescued Randy. He'd had the self control not to kill the father. Hell, Eliot had even taken out a hit man he hadn't even known about until thirty seconds before shots were fired. He kicked ass all around today.

By all accounts today had been a good day. He'd kicked ass, stayed in control, and the team treated him normal despite what had gone down. It should have felt like closure, or at least left him with the slight buzz that might be interpreted as feeling good he got after they finished a job.

Instead he was doing a pretty good imitation of "old Nate", drinking and trying not to suffocate under memories.

To say thinking about the situation caused him frustration that normally only came from dealing with Hardison for long periods of time was a bit of an understatement.

He had to admit whatever the hell was out there had a sense of humor cause it was not more than a few minutes after that analysis had crossed his mind that Hardison slid into the seat next to him.

Eliot found a new focus for his frustration about the time Hardison opened the conversation with. "What's a guy like you doing in a classy place like this?" Hardison blinked and the look on his face was what Parker had once called the "Oh crap, Eliot's more not amused than normal" look. It was a fairly good description, even if Hardison had been exhibiting less fear for his life at Eliot's hands of late.

Familiarity breeds contempt, the aesops said, so go figure. Of course it also got a fox eaten by a lion.

"What do you want Hardison?" Eliot asked sharply, thinking to hell with it and taking another taste of whiskey. He'd need it to get through the next ten minutes without punching someone.

Hardison was watching him, concerned but aware, probably reading him way better than Hardison could have ever hoped to before the team came together. One bad thing about working with a grifter and an investigator with profiling skills was that soon Everyone was getting better and better at reading people.

Eliot resisted the urge to fidget or resort to violence. He hated people studying him like that. "Not a sideshow here Hardison, say somthin' or go away."

"You're drinking whiskey." Eliot gave him a look that was a somewhat more threatening version of 'your point?' "I've known you for two years. You only drink beer, maybe wine or somthin' but nothing harder and never enough to get drunk."

"I aint drunk." Eliot said, putting the glass down harder than he meant.

"I know. Looks like you're goin' full speed ahead for it though." Hardison held up his hands innocently. "I don't have a problem with it. I know sometimes you have to let off a little pressure and so long as no one gets hurt and you don't turn into Nate it's between you, Jim Bean, and your morning hangover."

Eliot turned away, picking up the glass but not drinking any more. "…but?"

Hardison rolled his eyes, though it didn't take a genius to predict there was a but in there. "But I just want to know what it's about. Is it the kid back at the hospital? I've been keeping an eye on things, he's being put into the system as we speak."

Eliot didn't respond more than to push the glass away.

"Eliot look. I know you're not big on the heart to hearts and pep talks and I get that talking's not going to fix whats happened lately just… We're all worried about you." Eliot started to reply with a growl but Hardison talked over him.

"Yeah, you're always okay, you don't go down. You're fine, I get it, it's cool. But you're not working alone anymore. We're family, all the family most of us have. Part of that's letting' us know when you're hurting and letting us help." Hardison hesitated a second before venturing. "You should know that."

Eliot knew he meant Joey, Eliot's little sister. He knew Hardison was talking about the years growing up when Joey would patch him up after a beating. It gave her some way to feel a tiny bit less helpless, maybe the only reason he let her see him hurt so much. Even at all of ten he realized half the terror they lived with was spawned by the fact there was nothing more they could do than try to survive. Survive and live with the fear and anger and helplessness.

Hardison shifted, ordering a drink from the bartender who seemed to take the pause in conversation as a good time to make a sale. After getting it Hardison sighed. "Look, we just don't want to sit by and watch you self destruct. We already made that mistake before." Hardison shrugged. "I'd rather not blow this place up."

Eliot sighed one more time. "I'm just a little off my game." He said finally. "Nothing a few jobs and a little time won't fix."

"No offense Eliot, but after a job and a fight you're more of a wreck than you were before."

Eliot deflated just a little. One bad thing about working as a member of a team: you got called out on your shit a lot more. He sighed. "I just need a little time." He gave one small sigh and conceded. "I'm just… I'm a hitter. You learn early that the minute you lose control is the minute life goes all to hell." He finished his drink, letting it burn down his throat before say words that burned coming out. "The kid, Randy, his dad knew the cops. There was no way out for him." _He was helpless. _"Even after all that happened before… wasn't until right before you showed up I remembered what that felt like." He finished off his drink and pulled out his wallet, pulling out the bills to pay his tab.

Hardison didn't say anything. If Eliot was in a better mood he might have made some internal commentary that it probably said something about their team that Hardison knew more than a few methods of trying to get someone to open up about issues but had no idea how to respond when they actually did so.

Eliot was on his way out the door when Hardison moved and caught up to him. "Leaving before you see Nate? The man'd never say so but he's worried about you."

Eliot shrugged, not really wanting to explain that he didn't feel like Nate seeing him as close to drunk as he'd been in a decade.

"At least take a cab." Hardison insisted, causing Eliot to glare and momentarily re-entertain the thought of causing him bodily harm. "Hey, buzzed driving is still drunk driving." Eliot turned away. "Don't make me hack your car."

"This is an example of why my control aint an issue. If it was…" He let the threat hang open. To be honest Eliot had driven under the influence of something much worse than a bit of alcohol before and not hurt anyone, but it was a rather extreme circumstance. He doubted East Asian gun runners would be chasing him through the streets of Boston tonight.

And he did try to avoid taking stupid risks when it wasn't necessary.

"Either take a cab, go see Nate, or crash in the empty apartment on the top floor." Eliot let a raised eyebrow do the questioning. "Seriously. There's a leather couch in there that's really nice." He waited a moment then added. "Seven hundred sports channels Mr. I don't own a TV." He held out a set of keys.

Eliot took them and headed for the stairs.

Hardison followed him out. When they reached the stairwell Hardison headed off to go to his den of hacking to do Eliot didn't even want to know what.

Eliot mounted the stairs, twirling the key ring around his finger and catching it before he spoke. "Hey Hardison?" He called over his shoulder. "Thanks."

He climbed the stairs, step by step getting higher and farther away from the bar. Eliot remembered once he'd told Sophie it was all to try to keep it from suffocating him.

He'd tried Nate's method to shake off old memories and nearly drowned in it for awhile. Now he was climbing stairs up and away. He knew the reprive was only temporary and he'd have to deal with everything in due time.

But right then, while he was moving, (maybe doing a little running) he felt like he was breaking the surface for the first time in hours, maybe longer. It wasn't much, but he was used to taking a little bit of shelter and taking a breath before facing the storm again.

It was what he did.


	3. History Channel, A Wall, and Shampoo

**Note: **The third of three parts in my Shelter and the Storm arc.  
For anyone reading whose been upset that I never write more than the occasional kiss or implication that we may or may not have tuned in shortly after sex occured congradulations. I have finally gotten the courage to break my own personal rule #16 and write gay porn. *Glances up toward the rating* okay... so not exactly broke the rule but bent it somewhat. Beyond this point there be kissng and the misuse of a wall and serious implications of other uses for shampoo.  
To those of you who are awsome because you read my stuff despite not actually normally likeing the pairing... sorry. If you really don't want to read it drop me a comment and I'll let you know the plot important stuff that happens.

* * *

**Concerning The History Channel, A Wall, and Apple Shampoo  
**_Nate and Eliot meet in the upstairs apartment, watch the History Channel, and do some other stuff._

* * *

It was a little after midnight when Nate gave up waiting for Eliot to come over.

It was a little before two when he gave up trying to get some sleep. It was the sad truth that the more nights he spent with Eliot the more Nate was slipping towards Eliot's own sleeping habits. He wasn't anywhere quite near only sleeping 90 minutes a night, especially with the six months of habit breaking without Eliot, but it was happening none the less.

After wandering around his apartment for a few minutes he began to research their next client but had a bit of trouble focusing.

It seemed trying to distract yourself could be a bit distracting.

A Mug of coffee later he gave up researching for the moment. He'd take a walk. See if he couldn't cement that reputation of being the weird guy in apartment 2A with the friends as crazy as he was.

A walk at two in the morning. Just what he needed. And if that walk took him up the stairs instead of down and if he ended up letting himself into the apartment Hardison had set aside for him and Eliot it was no one's business but his.

No one's business but his and the somewhat slouched figure on the leather couch in front of a wall of four wide screen tv's watching something on the history channel.

Absently Nate wondered if you could get a discount on insomnia treatment if you went as a group.

He walked forward, leaning his arms on the back of the couch. "What is this?" He asked, fully expecting Eliot's non-committal shrug and complete lack of surprise at Nate appearing over his shoulder at two A.M.. Even with the TV as loud as it was Eliot would have recognized the sound of his footsteps, hell maybe even the sound of Nate opening the door. _it's a very distinctive sound._

"Ultimate warrior somthin'" Eliot said. "Take two warriors from history and use science an' stuff to see which would have won in a fight." Nate nodded, even if Eliot wasn't looking at him, but looked down toward the other man. His accent was thicker than normal and there was just a hint of a smell of bourbon.

Nate raised an eyebrow. He knew from the months they'd shared an apartment that Eliot never drank anything harder than beer. According to him it was a stupid risk to get drunk when you might have to fight and for Eliot there was never quite a time when there wasn't a chance he might have to fight.

He almost commented but let it go. After Eliot had helped carry Nate's drunk ass for a year and more Nate lost the right to comment on Eliot's drinking, for better or worse.

And given the circumstances he'd have let it slide anyway.

They watched the show in silence for a little while, the respectable distance between them never breeched. After everything that had happened Nate had thought they'd be okay. They'd shared a room and a bed while staying with Eliot's sister even if the fact that they were sharing the house with two recently traumatized kids who were as likely to run to Eliot as their parents was enough to keep them from sharing more than a kiss or two.

At least Nate had thought, or that was what he'd told himself. But it had been more than a week since they'd returned to Boston and so far Eliot had barely even set foot on the staircase to the upper story of Nate's apartment. There had been almost nothing hinting at intimacy between them and as much as Nate didn't want to think about it…

Eliot's step father had hurt him in ways Nate only guessed at. He hadn't asked Eliot, and Eliot didn't really need to answer for Nate to know. Nate had thought Eliot had worked through that long ago and that when all was said and done Eliot would be okay and even if they had a few awkward moments they'd be okay as well.

He had thought that, even if the kids in the house weren't the only reasons for the distance, coming back to Boston and diving back into work would help Eliot shake off the old ghosts.

Now they were sitting or standing around a mostly empty apartment watching a tv show about ninjas fighting pirates, not touching, not talking, and not even really acknowledging each others presence.

Yeah. They were the picture of a healthy relationship.

Nate shifted his weight and posture, changing how his arms were resting on the couch's back and reaching over one hand to casually rest on Eliot's shoulder.

He wasn't ready for the man to turn suddenly, grabbing his wrist, a glare and flinch both flashing across his features before he let go. He took a deep breath, obviously as surprised by his reaction as Nate. The double blink to clear his vision and the way his eyes briefly darted around the room told Nate he'd caught Eliot dozing off and off his guard.

Or on his guard one might say, though it stung a little. Nate wasn't even sure how Eliot did it but his subconscious seemed to be able to identify those around him. Normally on the rare occasions Nate was awake and Eliot was sleeping Nate could all but violently shake Eliot without waking him while others simply entering the room could cause him to stir.

There was a long moment of silence broken only by Eliot's quick breathing slowly evening out as his fight or flight instinct to being suddenly woken faded. In it's wake Nate was struck by how tired Eliot looked. He knew Eliot hadn't been sleeping well, the nightmares that plagued anyone who lived a life like he did had come almost nightly back at the Phillips household.

They may have followed him back to Boston. Nate wouldn't know.

Nate withdrew his hand completely giving Eliot space as needed. More space, if he needed it, would be allowed. Eliot had carried Nate's drunk ass for a year. Nate could give Eliot that much time or more to get himself back together after what had happened.

It came as a surprise then when Eliot pushed himself off the couch and came around it to where Nate was standing, a mix of the easy grace that was Eliot in motion and tense lines. He stood in front of Nate a moment, face set but unreadable, blue eyes boring into Nate's. His mouth twitched like he was about to speak but thought better of it. Instead he reached for Nate's hands, stepping closer, defying the space between them he'd kept so rigidly the past few days.

Calloused hands moved Nate's, settling them on Eliot's hips before releasing them to pull Nate closer, one hand wrapping behind his head to pull him down into a kiss.

Nate had learned early on there were times when life with Eliot required less thinking and more reacting as quickly as you could. Distantly Nate was aware it was somewhat of a cliché to think of sex and violence having so much in common when it came to Eliot. Quick thinking, acting, and reacting were the only way to even try to hang onto any control of the situation with Eliot when either were involved.

So when a kiss became plural and deepened and Eliot seemed to let instinct take over Nate found himself left with the choices of pulling away, joining Eliot, or letting himself be backed up against the wall not to far behind him somewhere.

Not that the last option didn't have a certain amount of merit Nate had never been one to give up control easily.

Besides, he knew from personal experience Eliot up against a wall was an idea that had a Lot of merit. Between the way Eliot was kissing him, and god Nate took back every half drunk ass metaphor he'd thought before about Eliot tasting like bourbon it was nothing like the real thing, and the fact it had been three Long weeks since things had gone to hell in Kentucky Nate was having a hard time remembering why it had been three weeks.

Nate let Eliot half lead half push him a few steps back toward the wall before shifting his weight and pressing the height advantage, successfully pinning Eliot between his body and the wall. Nate knew Eliot could easily take him in a fair fight but mostly in these cases Eliot only used his abilities to their full extent if he thought Nate needed to be taken down a peg or two.

For the moment he seemed to think Nate had a pretty good idea.

It was moments later, when hands fumbling for something to do found there way to fixing the problem that they both seemed to be suffering from (being way overdressed for the situation) that Eliot jerked. It was a small motion most wouldn't of even noticed but after months of being with someone who'd come home peppered with bruises from some fight and really in the mood for sex Nate had become hyper aware of that sort of action.

Nate jerked back, breaking the contact, a half formed curse about Eliot being an idiot if he'd been hurt in the fight with the Arminian hit man and didn't anything when they were in a freaking hospital, dieing on his lips.

Eliot was looking somewhere over Nate's shoulder and Nate let his hands drop away completely.

Eliot took a deep, frustrated breath and slid his eyes back over to Nate's. His expression set as Eliot Spencer, retrieval specialist, a member of their team. There was no ghost of memory or vulnerability there. He didn't say anything but Nate nodded in understanding anyway. No words had been spoken but they didn't always need words. Nate knew what Eliot had meant. They were the words he'd been saying without speaking for as long as Nate knew him.

_I won't be afraid. _

So fast it left him feeling a little dazed Nate found their positions reversed and any hope of forming some kind of coherent reaction was lost when Eliot changed his focus from Nate's mouth to his neck, favoring his pulse point with teeth and tounge as much as anything else. It took Nate a moment to think through the fog of something as cliché as "god yes" to a reaction a little more dignified. "So I take that as a yes?"

Eliot stopped, and no Nate did not make an unhappy sound in response it was the wind or something, and looked up at Nate clearly confused. "What?"

"To Hardison. He's offering us this place for when we move in together again."

Eliot eyes twitched just a little and Nate could see confusion giving to a disturbed look giving way to something that Nate was pretty sure meant Eliot had a very good idea. He pulled away from Nate which Nate was not entirely pleased about but when Eliot looked around and peaked into the bathroom his curiosity got the best of him. "What?"

"Seeing what we have to work with." Eliot called back disappearing and reappearing with a bottle of his favorite shampoo. "There is somthin' wrong with this." Eliot said sounding more wickedly amused than disturbed. "but least we don't have ta make the trip back down ta your place."

Nate felt the small, pleased, smile that Parker called creepy spread across his face as he caught on to Eliot's idea.

"I'm just trying to decide one thing." Eliot commented walking, or maybe stalking was a better word, back toward Nate.

"What?"

"When we tell Hardison yes, how much should we tell him?"

The mental picture of Hardison's potential reaction pulled a laugh from Nate's chest, easing the tension there a little. "I don't know." He answered when Eliot got close enough, pulling him close and whispering in that tone that he could feel send a thrill down Eliot's spine. "Lets see what there's to tell first."


	4. Sometimes They Win

**Notes:**Hey from college! On my new computer since my old one up and crashed, which is both bad and good news. The bad news is that I had the mostly finished first chapter of THe Legacy Job, and the first version of this on there, with no backup.  
The good news is the rewritting rarely hurts the ficcing.  
I've got a couple fics partially done and now that orientation is over I will be able to write them again. However I am trying to have a life so I make no large promises on frequent postings.  
That said, this is starting to look like it's going to become an arc of it's own. I name it the "In the Shadow of a Gunman" arc, since it takes place after the Fairy God Parents job and is somewhat related to the gun/hit man. To understand this you really just need to have read Fathers. It won't make *any* sense if you havn't.  
Also, if after reading this anyone was thinking my latest theme is Eliot is slowly but surely heading toward a total breakdown/explosion of violence then you are correct and get a cookie.

Warning: Heavily implied non-con and past sexual abuse.

* * *

**Sometimes They Win  
**_There are wolves in the world and Eliot knows sometimes they win._

* * *

"Arms up, Front guard!" Eliot called out, nodding his head approvingly as the girls did as told, forming neat lines. If nothing else they were at least decent at taking direction. Private school seemed to be good for something. Go figure.

Well mostly. One little blonde girl in the back raised her hand and stepped out of line. "Mr. why do we have to do this?" She asked.

Another girl turned and answered for him. "Because there are wolves in the world."

"There are wolves in the world" The other girls in the class chorused. "So you better be careful."

Together they started going through the basic set of moves Eliot had been teaching them. A small army of ten year old girls with stern faces and determined eyes practiced martial arts chanting a mantra together. "There are wolves in the world so you better be careful."

The little blonde girl had disappeared from the lines, slipping out of sight with the same eerie ability as…

"There are wolves in the world Eliot." The little girl's voice said behind her now.

Eliot spun to face her.

Parker stood behind him, a bullet hole in her forehead. "There are wolves in the world Eliot." She reached up, looking perplexed and touching the blood beginning to trail down her face. "And sometimes they win."

Eliot felt like the floor was ripped out from under him.

He stumbled forward, reaching for Parker. She was still walking around. He might be able to save her still.

She crumpled to the ground, life fleeing her even as he caught her shoulders.

No. This wasn't happening. The job was done. He'd done his part. He'd taken out the gunman. Parker and Hardison were fine. He hadn't not been there to protect them when they needed him.

Oh god. Hardison.

"Cops and robbers cops and robbers." The words said singsong echoed around the room, Parkers form twisting and shrinking into the little girl who pushed herself back to her feet and took Eliot's hand, tugging him along with her. "Cops and rapists, cops and rapists." She singsonged again, her little sweet voice lingering disturbingly over the twist. She giggled, looking back at him, only her face was scorched and eyes burned out sockets like the victims of the impromptu nerve gas he couldn't even remember where exactly he'd seen it used.

"Cops and rapists cops and rapists"

Hands. Hands grabbed him from behind, tearing him away from the little girl who skipped off ahead of him still singing.

Eliot turned, ready to strike, when the hands changed. Hardison's. He could tell just by the feel of the contact.

He turned, bracing himself for Hardison's death.

The man's dark skin had gone pale, he was shaking, watching Eliot with terrified eyes. "There are wolves in the world." Hardison said barely above a whisper.

Eliot looked around, assessing they were safe before turning his attention to Hardison. "Hardison… It's alright. Tell me what happened." He reached out to touch Hardison's shoulder, try to get him to move a little, see if he was hurt.

Hardison flinched away, arms wrapping around himself, looking away. "There are wolves in the world. Sometimes they win." His lips were swollen. There were bruises darkening on his arms. The way he was moving…

Eliot took a step backwards, stumbling over Parker's corpse that was suddenly right there.

He fell to the ground, landing on hard cold tile, feeling it all along his body as he collapsed onto it.

Hardison stood off to the side mumbling about wolves in the world over and over as the bathroom door crashed open and the gunman stepped in. He smiled, showing yellowed teeth, crossing over to Eliot.

Hands Eliot would never forget the feeling of, that he remembered exactly even after twenty years, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hair, dragging him toward the door. Just before he was pulled out into the darkness of his bedroom he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

His reflection showed a young boy who couldn't be more than thirteen, dark skinned, tall, and awkward. Long fingers that would one day fly across keyboards gripped desperately at the door frame, nails leaving scratches as he was ripped away.

Darkness claimed him and hands became fists and kicks until he lay inches from unconsciousness.

The darkness pulled away his clothes, stripping him, turning him.

Taking him.

Eliot came awake with a jolt, thrashing against the arms still holding him tightly.

They gave way in a heartbeat, letting him pull away and half sit up on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to take a breath and figure out where he was. Reality and dream still intersected, phantom hands gripping him, the pain and ache and burn still almost as real as it wasn't. The terror, helplessness, the need to fight or flee sent adrenalin racing through his system hard and fast almost burning out his ability to think as instinct tried desperately to take over.

Seconds passed into minutes as he came down, realigning his mind with reality. He was home, in the penthouse apartment Hardison had "given" him and Nate. They'd finished the last of the unpacking and furnishing after they wrapped up the job at the private school. The ache was from the fight and his and Nate's private celebrations after the unpacking was done.

Parker and Hardison were fine.

A hand touched his shoulder, gentle, just barely there. It was Nate. "Eliot?" He asked, his voice just as soft as the touch. He'd learned early to step lightly around Eliot when nightmares were involved but ever since Kentucky he'd become more gentle, more careful about old ghosts.

Eliot knew he was afraid the incident had refreshed old wounds, that it had brought back older nightmares, nightmares that could make Nate's touch unbearable.

Eliot couldn't bring himself to tell Nate those nightmares had never really stopped. They'd always been there, memories looming at the back of his mind. Even if consciously he'd suppressed them, forced them away like on a kid can… they'd always been there. Now they were just there more.

He let out a slow breath, reaching up to capture Nate's hand. "I'm good."

"You're not." Nate said, closing his hand tighter around Eliot's shoulder and slowly drawing him back against Nate's chest and wrapping his arms around him.

Eliot let him, relaxing back into the embrace, trying to let the smell and feel of Nate erase the lingering sensations from the dream.

For long moments neither said anything, there wasn't much need to. It had been a little more than a month since they'd gotten back from Kentucky, about a two weeks since they'd decided to move back in together.

It had been twelve days since they started sharing a bed again.

In those twelve days there hadn't been one night not interrupted by a nightmare.

He knew Nate was worried, that it didn't take a genius to recognize that there were issues occurring here, that Nate could probably guess the nightmares had been going on since Kentucky.

But other than the morning he killed That Man Eliot had never spoken of his dreams. Nate knew not to ask.

"Tell me?" The two words broke the silence and Eliot turned, looking up to see Nate surprised. "Your dreams are getting worse Eliot." Nate continued slowly. "Last year you'd wake up and you knew where you were, even if it hung over you you never got lost. Now you wake up but the dream doesn't end ."

Eliot licked his lips, trying to find words for what he'd dreamed but losing them halfway out. He wouldn't tell Nate he'd dreamt that following Nate's order had gotten Parker killed. He wouldn't tell him he'd dreamt about the cold tile floor of the bathroom he'd clean himself up in before letting Joey patch him up. He wouldn't tell Nate he'd dreamed that it was Hardison in his place and how somehow that had brought a whole level of horror to it that he couldn't quite give words to.

He loved Nate. He'd even said it. They'd admitted it, if only just that once.

But there were some times when that was too much, too close, too there to hurt him. Eliot knew a description of his nightmares would probably only fuel Nate's.

Eliot broke away from Nate's hold, getting out of bed and getting dressed in old blue jeans and a wife beater, staying barefoot.

"El?" Nate asked softly.

"I'm gonna ride a bit, clear my head." Eliot partially lied. He would be riding around a bit. Parker was always hard to track down.

Nate nodded, but smiled sadly. "Hardison's probably still up, you'll need an excuse." Nate said. He understood what Eliot did and didn't say. Sometimes, when the nightmares were bad and he'd watched the others die, the only way to get a little piece of mind was to make sure they were alive and breathing. "Eliot?"

Eliot stopped at the door, turning back to look to Nate. "Yeah?"

"You know it wouldn't be your fault." Nate said. "I call the shots. If someone gets hurt cause you did what I said…" He trailed off.

"There are wolves in the world Nate." Eliot said in the silnce that followed. "Sometimes they win." He turned back to the door. "Nate, you should know. If the wolves out in the world win, one way or another I won't be coming back home."

He slipped out of the apartment and into the night.

There were wolves out in the world and sometimes they win.

But there was a wolf inside of him to.

If the wolves out there won, if he failed and someone got killed.

Well then the wolf inside of him might win to.


	5. Sometimes it Helps

**Notes: **The second of it now looks like Five parts to my "In the Shadow of a Gunman" arc (though there may be a final sort of call back part called In the Memory of a Gunman when I work my way up to The Lost Heir Job).

This story has a strange history. It got it's insperation weeks ago when I read Meatball42's story Nightmares. There was a particular line that was begging for further recognition. Meatball42 and I ended up talking and she gave me permission (well, I think rather forceful orders to go forth and write count as permission) to use it in somthing. I ended up messing a little with the timeing (I have the conversation happen late season one, ignoring a couple comments about season 2 jobs). Although I highly (even if not for the refference it's a really good story) recomend going and reading the story this can be read without it.

This story is obviously dedicated to one Meatball42, who along with letting me play in her sandbox a little bit has been constant in her reviews and encouragment which is more helpful than I can express without boring the hell out of most of my readers. Suffice to say, she gets a black star of awsome.

* * *

**Sometimes it Helps  
**_With everything Eliot does sometimes Hardison's just glad he can help a little._

* * *

When Hardison was a kid one of his foster sisters taught him about the concept of a 2:30 conversation. According to her any conversation held after 2:30 in the morning but before sunrise was likely to be somewhat more emotional and revealing with a good deal less BS due to the parties involved being too tired to lie.

In retrospect he would have to find her and apologies for telling her she was full of it.

Cause really, it was two minutes past 2:30 in the morning when Hardison came back from a jog to a 24 hour convenience store for more Orange Soda and found Eliot standing statue still outside the door to his Hackers den.

"Eliot?" Hardison asked softly. The man looked like hell, his hair messy, barefoot and dressed in what was obviously the first thing he put his hands on. The air about him was the one he tended to get for awhile after a fight when he wasn't positive there weren't more bad guys hanging around. "You okay man."

Eliot turned sharply toward him, reddened eyes scanning over him like he was checking him out or making sure he was okay. A joke about Hardison not being interested and really not wanting to get involved if he and Nate were fighting died on his lips.

Like he was making sure he was okay…

Memory of a time a year ago when Hardison had woken in the night from dreams that he'd let the team down and gotten them all killed surfaced in his mind.

Words he hadn't marked then, too wrapped up in the horror of his own dream but… now he remembered as Eliot told him to look in on the other members of the team, showing himself they were fine, Eliot had said something. "Sometimes it helps".

He swallowed and reached out, touching Eliot's shoulder. "I'm fine man. Come inside. I got somthin' that might help."

Eliot seemed surprised for only a moment before wordlessly nodding and following him into his Hackers den.

Hardison sat at his desk, bringing the bunch of monitors back from standby. A few keystrokes brought up a map of Boston and a blinking mark in Sophie's apartment building. "Sophie's home." Hardison said. "After we came back together Nate talked her into carrying a panic button. She presses it and no matter what's going on whatever I'm doing blanks out and lets me know. I climb two flights of stairs and get you and Nate up and we figure out what to do." He didn't say 'she's safe' but he really hoped Eliot got that from what Hardison said.

Next Hardison pulled out his cell. "Nate's got one to. Parker wouldn't carry one but you know Parker. Anyone tryin' to hurt her would have to catch her first. You ever had much luck with that." He glanced over his shoulder. Eliot actually smiled at that.

Something in his stomach eased a little. "Want me to call her? She's testing out a new rig and I convinced her to let me call once a test run to make sure she hadn't fallen to her death or anything." He didn't wait for Eliot to answer before opening his cell and dialing Parker. "Hey Parker… Two floors too long? That's not good… okay… nice… I'm glad you didn't go smush too… uh huh… Par-… Parker! Not a good time. Eliot's in the room with me and… no we are not having a three-way with Nate… that would be called a four-way Parker and tends to be generally frowned upon… Parker…" He turned to Eliot who looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh, punch someone, or remark on Parker being wrong a bit more.

Hardison gave a long, slow, longsuffering sigh. It wasn't his fault his… whatever Parker and him were these days… was just frikken strange. "She wants to talk to you."

Eliot took the phone and even though Hardison couldn't hear what Parker said he saw the reactions ghosting across Eliot's face. Relief, annoyance, disturbance, and just a hint of the same indulgence he'd given Joey.

When he handed Hardison the phone back there was something else there. If Hardison had to place it it may have been something along the lines of a "hurt my little sister and I'll show you how many painful ways I can make you die" look.

Well then.

Hardison said goodbye to Parker, closing the phone and sitting it down. Eliot was on his way out the door and Hardison wasn't stopping him when Eliot paused. One hand on the doorframe, his face turned away from Hardison he spoke a question barely audible enough for Hardison to be sure it had been asked.

"Hey Hardison… when you were in the system… anyone hurt you?"

Hardison hesitated a moment. He knew he could say no. The others had a mental disconnect going that he'd spent his entire life in the system with Nana and that life before had been dandy. He could say no and let that continue and no one would call him on it. They'd believe him.

But if he told the truth, maybe...

"Yeah." He said with a little shrug.

By the sharp draw of breath from Eliot that wasn't the expected answer. Eliot turned toward him, eyes seeking, passing over him, a question on his face even though Hardison knew that Eliot wouldn't ask.

"No. Never like that." Hardison said. "Just got slapped around a couple times. Nothing serious or…"

The relief on Eliot's face made Hardison's heart hurt.

"Hey man, you uh, wanna talk about it? The dream I mean. Sometimes it helps."

Eliot hesitated a moment, then let out a long slow breath, sitting down a nearby chair. "I was teachin' that damn gym class…"

Like any good 2:30 conversation they would never really mention what they talked about after that, at least not until a week later when Eliot showed up at his door at three in the morning with a bottle of Orange Soda and embarrassed expression.

And maybe the dream Eliot described proved fuel for Hardison's own Nightmares. Maybe he'd later dream about cold tile floors and Parkers corpse and Eliot being hurt in ways that made his chest tighten and stomach threaten to revolt.

But the day after that two in the morning conversation the bags that had slowly appearing under Eliot's eyes had receded a little, the haunted look lessened slightly. Maybe it wasn't much, except a sign Sophie's reading people ability was rubbing off on him, but Hardison was pretty sure Eliot had managed to get through a night without nightmares.

And really, even if he hadn't quite managed that himself Hardison thought maybe it was worth a few Nightmares to have Eliot start climbing out of the hell he'd been shoved back into. With everything Eliot had been through and done for the team sometimes Hardison was just glad he could help.


	6. Sometimes Things Go Wrong

**Note: **Part three in the "In the Shadow of a Gunman" arc. You can expect two more (gasp). Look out for 'Sometimes the Truth is Important' and 'Sometimes they Lose'.

* * *

Sometimes Things Go Wrong  
_Parker knows sometimes things go wrong, but sometimes they also go right._

* * *

It was late, or early. Parker wasn't ever really sure what to call it when you stayed up all night and it was like four in the morning.

She'd finished testing her harness hours ago, Hardison hadn't liked that the first harness she designed for him hadn't been tested so she'd given this one extra going overs. It was something nice and thoughtful to show she cared, something Sophie said was a thing that helped dating not go wrong.

Not that they were dating quite yet but after everything was said and done with the job Hardison had taken her out and bought her her favorite type of smoothie. She'd bought him an orange colored one like his soda. He'd been a little surprised, he'd already bought his own, but he took the one she got him anyway.

She'd have to ask Sophie what she did wrong later.

But now it was late-not-late time and she was still on an adrenalin rush. So she went back to the HQ.

Specifically she went to the roof.

Eliot didn't sleep much, and ever since he and Nate moved in together in the penthouse apartment (they hadn't said anything but Parker wasn't blind) he'd started coming onto the roof late at night. He was slowly turning a section of the roof into a fenced off garden area and Parker was pretty sure the materials he had there were to build a greenhouse.

Parker liked to watch him work, it helped her relax and she had fun pretending she was protecting Eliot. After the first couple of times though he'd called her cell and told her to come down from there. If she was so interested she might as well lend a hand.

He'd started to teach her how to garden and it was strange. It was almost the exact way he'd started teaching her how to fight. He'd caught her watching him training on the roof of the Leverage Offices and had told her to come over and started showing her how to do what he was doing.

Only tonight Eliot wasn't gardening, wasn't moving between plants mumbling to himself as he _Pruned _and _weeded _and avoided weeding the plants that looked like weeds but weren't.

He was sitting on the bench at the edge of his little garden, forehead resting on his hands like he'd been when she found him back in his room at his sister's house in Kentucky.

Two years ago she wouldn't have understood why that made her chest hurt like this. Now she knew that she was seeing pain. She was seeing her family in pain and she didn't like it now any more than she had back in Kentucky.

Looked like she'd have to try that wisdom thing again.

She landed on the edge of the roof and approached Eliot slowly, making sure to let her feet make a shuffling noise on the roof so she wouldn't startle him. Startling Eliot when he wasn't okay was a dangerous thing in the bad not fun kind of ways.

She sat down next to him and waited, smiling a little sadly when he sat up but didn't throw up his usual attitude and _facades _as Sophie called them. Parker's lips twitched as she tried to figure out what Sophie would have her say. She'd failed at being sympathetic and nice with the client earlier.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked, not entirely sure if the questioning tone was from the question or because she wasn't sure it was what she was supposed to ask.

Eliot looked over and gave that little grin that said 'there's something wrong with you' but added something else to the end. Like it was a good thing, or maybe that it was something good to him. After a long silence Eliot spoke. "I want you ta stop duckin' out of training on Thursdays. Your gettin' better at fightin' but never hurts to go further."

Parker blinked, thinking. Eliot had started teaching her how to fight in the aftermath of the snow job. It had taken her a couple of months to realize it was because his faith in Nate had been wavering. At that moment he didn't trust Nate to keep her away from danger. He'd caught her watching him training, not for the first time, and pulled her in to start teaching her.

It had been sporadic until the job with Santa Clause. After that Eliot had pulled Hardison into it and made it every Thursday off the job and whenever they found time on the job that he'd hold lessons. After they came back together Hardison had "conned" the cop who lived in the building to move into a much nicer place for the same price on the other side of town and Eliot had turned the flat into a studio for training.

Lessons had continued as usual for awhile, though in the weeks since Kentucky Parker had been ducking out of the lessons. This was the first time Eliot had brought it up.

"I don't want to learn more." She said simply. "Remember what I said when I asked you to teach me?"

"You never as-"

"Back when we started working together I asked you to teach me because I knew you were a Hitter and you wouldn't protect me and sometimes things just go wrong." She looked over to him. "But you're protecting us now. I know even if something goes wrong you won't let anything bad happen to me. There's no reason for me to learn to fight now."

For a second Eliot looked like he'd been sucker-punched in the stomach, then a small bitter smile crossed his face. He shook his head. "Ya know someone once told me sometimes things just go wrong."

"Not someone, I told you that." Parker said, before getting that he'd been doing that thing people sometimes did.

"Yes, ya did." He said with a little nod. "Sometimes things go wrong. I might not be around forever, or even just when ya need me. I need ta know you can look after yourself in a fight."

"Okay." She said simply, trying to give her voice that petulant sound that made him smile sometimes. Her acting skills, never really at their best, weren't working to well though. The thought that Eliot might not be around forever… that he might leave or get killed… it hurt a lot. "Elie?" Eliot looked up sharply, the use of his sister's nickname startling him. Parker smiled a little, good, she had his attention. "I know sometimes things go wrong but will promise you won't just walk away again?"

He didn't answer right away and Parker decided to give him time to think. She got up and started trying to _weed_ like he'd been teaching her.

A few minutes later his hands closed over hers, stopping her from uprooting a plant she guessed probably wasn't a weed. "I promise." He said as he let her hands go. He moved, pointing out a patch of actual weeds in another pot. "And Parker… if ya want… when it's just you an me… you can go on callin' me Elie."

Parker smiled over at him, and he smiled back, and she nodded. "Sometimes things go right to."


	7. Sometimes the Truth is Important

**Notes:** So everyone remember how we've been having a very heartwarming series of fics for a bit now? It's over. We're back to the angst in full swing here and whats more we're approaching the Three Days of the Hunter in my verse so along with Eliot and Nate Sophie will soon be joinning the angst party! Even if both my fics planed for Three Days are about as happy/cracky as this verse is likely to get. After that it's mostly back to the usual angst and small moments of heartwarming.  
Sounds like I'm describing a season of Surpernatural.

* * *

**Sometimes the Truth is Important  
**_Sometimes the truth is important, and sometimes a lie is all that's holding you together._

* * *

It was late, but unlike usual Sophie couldn't sleep.

It was annoying. She was the one on the team who had no trouble sleeping. Where Hardison's mind never stopped moving and Nate stayed up drinking and Parker refused to lie still long enough and Eliot's constant vigilance was not conducive to rest she at least could be semi normal.

It wasn't to say she couldn't pull all nighters as well as the rest of them. They were thieves, and being able to operate on little or no sleep was part of the territory, but it was annoying. There was just something annoying about lieing in bed in some ungodly hour in the morning, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think about her boyfriend who'd dumped her, or Nate who was probably sleeping with Eliot held in his arms in a way she'd only wished he'd have held her, or Whitmark and all the emotions this last case had brought up.

With an aggravated sigh she rolled her head to one side, resisting the urge to bury her head under a pillow as if it would block out the noise of her own mind. Another moment later she rolled the other way and gave up.

Some tea would sooth her nerves. She'd get dressed and then she'd plan something, a grift or a con. Something she wouldn't actually do but it would keep her sharp and half the fun was the planning. Maybe she'd incorporate the others in her mental plan just for the challenge. It seemed to work wonders for Nate.

So did drinking, but she was going to avoid that little possibility.

In the end that was how she ended up letting herself into Nate's apartment at four thirty in the morning. The downstairs one, she mentally amended. She'd been fooled once but it had only take a few favored nick nacks disappearing from the apartment for Sophie to guess he and Eliot had moved in together again and it had been easy to go from there.

She was nursing a mug of tea and trying to sort through a couple files on possible clients when she came in, not really paying attention to her surroundings.

Which was why a moment later when Nate gave her a confused greeting of. "Good morning?" From the kitchen table she nearly spilled tea all over her brand new jacket as she jerked in surprise.

"God Nate, what are you doing here?" She asked, putting the things in her hands on the nearby table and trying to calm her startled nerves.

"It's my apartment." He said, taking a long sip of coffee. "I think the more reasonable question is what are you doing here?"

"Your apartment is on the top floor." Sophie said, Nate didn't seem at all surprised she knew. "This is a more relaxed version of our old offices."

"Strange. On the lease it say I'm the one paying rent."

Sophie shrugged, non commitably and set about reorganizing her papers and wondering if she'd still go about planning with Nate here.

What was he doing here? She glanced over at him, noticed the distracted and haggard appearance and considered. It was the look Nate got when something was really troubling him, which normally meant either Sam, Maggie, or Eliot. He'd more or less come to terms with Maggie, and Sophie had a feeling if it was Sam Eliot would be somewhere nearby to keep an eye on Nate even if he was giving the older man space.

Which meant Eliot was probably the source of tonight's troubles. Not unusual of late. The things Eliot had been through before, during, and after Kentucky had left Nate more than a little troubled over their hitter's well being.

It wasn't a misplaced worry, Sophie would be the first to admit. She was the one Eliot had given the gun to in Kentucky and he'd given her the same gun again, no explanation given or needed, after the job at the hospital. It was a preparation, a request, that just in case… She'd taken it and they'd never mentioned it again. She didn't think she'd ever need it, but it was just one more reason to keep a mental track on Eliot.

And in honesty she knew he wasn't doing well. She was a grafter, and even if Eliot was hard to read she could read him. He was still a little lost, still fighting his way back to the present and away from the hell he'd been dragged into. She read the fatigue he was just beginning to show as chronic nightmares. She saw how he touched the others just a little bit more than he used to but there was still some hesitation, like he was trying to show the others it was okay to touch him still, even though in honesty it might not be quite yet.

And his temper that had been slowly cooling off started to flare up again. He'd nearly come to blows with Hardison in the apartment earlier for something much less severe than things he'd let slide weeks ago.

"How's Eliot?" She asked, after the quiet lasted too long. She was settling in to her seat, settling down for whatever would come of this, trying to stay objective. Focusing on Eliot's issues would probably be a decent way of distracting herself from her own.

"He's fine." Nate said without looking up from his coffee. "How are you? You still haven't explained why you're here at four in the morning."

"Nate…" Sophie paused, almost taking the bait and letting this be about her. God knew she deserved a little attention, but somehow she felt like she needed to address Eliot first. Afterwards Nate could deal with her. She hesitated, finding the right words. "You know sometimes the truth's important." She said casually, raising her eyes to meet his across the apartment. "We're all worried. Even Parker knows he's not doing fine."

Nate sighed, looking into his mug before meeting her eyes again. "He's doing better, a little every day. It's just taking time. He'll be fine." He muttered something too softly for Sophie to catch.

"What?" She asked.

"I'm just not sure he believes it." Nate admitted.

"Then tell him that you do." Sophie said firmly. When Nate gave her a look that told her that somewhere between lack of sleep, general emotional misery, and fatigued caused by weeks of worrying he wasn't getting what she meant. "Tell him you know he'll be okay. Don't give him some clichéd speech about how time makes things better and you'll be there for him. He won't sit still through half of it. Don't try to con him into being okay. Just talk."

Nate blinked at her, understanding coming slowly but coming. She got up, and walked over to sit across from him. "You two can be bloody blind but you've got more in common than you think. Control is a commodity to you both, and you both know what it's like to have it brutally ripped away. He shows it different but right now… he's like you when this team came together. He's trying to pull himself back together, to not suffocate under the weight of memory of what happened to him. He's fighting to get control back and terrified he's going to lose." She stopped and sighed, lightly resting a comforting hand on the one of his wrapped around the mug. "You won. Now you need to tell him he will too."

Nate let out a long breath. He was thinking, realizing, his mind processing and shifting. "I don't know that for sure."

She didn't address the fact she wasn't sure what he wasn't sure about. She let out one long breath and pressed forward. "Sometimes the truth's important Nate, but sometimes the truth's what we make it. I know this much. If you believe Eliot will be alright, he'll believe it to."

Without another word she got up and went back over to her planning, leaving Nate to his thoughts. She told herself she was glad she could help. She told herself to feel good about the fact that she was pulling her team back together, making up a little for pulling it apart.

She told herself that after Nate left, determination on his face and the keys to the upstairs apartment already in hand, he wasn't going upstairs to talk to Eliot. He wasn't going to go do what he could to fix Eliot.

She told herself there weren't a couple tears making their way down her face. It was just raining. Indoors.

Sometimes the truth was important, but sometimes a lie was needed to hold yourself together a little while longer.


	8. Sometimes they Lose

**Note:** Last part of the "In the Shadow of a Gunman" arc.

* * *

**Sometimes They Lose  
**_There are wolves in the world and sometimes they win. But sometimes they lose._

* * *

Nate hadn't been sure what to expect. Sure he had a plan. He always had a plan. But his current plan was one of those plans you had just for the sake of having a plan because you always had a plan. He was relatively sure it would go out the window before step three.

It ended up being thrown out only shortly after step one. The plan had not taken into account Parker.

It defiantly hadn't anticipated her and Eliot in the top floor apartment's kitchen, Parker cutting up vegetables while being closely watched by Eliot.

He hadn't expected to find that soft, relaxed smile on Eliot's face, most of the earlier tension gone.

They continued without acknowledging Nate's presence until the vegetables were thoroughly diced when Eliot liberated the cutting board and dumped the vegetables into a frying pan. Parker turned the shiny knife she'd been using in her hand, inspecting it with a sort of reverence, even as she gave a sort of half hearted wave to Nate with her free hand.

Nate figured Eliot must have told her how much those knives cost.

Without even looking over his shoulder Eliot called out. "Parker!" She reluctantly put it into the sink. When he spoke again it was gentler, almost apologetic. "Hey Parker, can you give us a few minutes? Head down to the other apartment. I'll bring this along when it's done."

Parker's lips twitched like she was biting back a comment for once then she smiled and nodded. "Alright." She said with an exaggerated huff. "I guess I can't complain when mommy and daddy want to have their fights in private."

She was out of the room and gone before Eliot finished turning to… well however he'd react to that. Nate was pretty certain there had been at least a glance toward the block of very expensive knives.

"Mommy and Daddy huh?" Nate commented, walking across the kitchen to war one arm around the annoyed hitter. "I'd say we have rather strange children." It hurt a little, any mention of children always did, but not as much as it had a year ago. "And what does that make Sophie?"

Eliot turned and stopped anything else Nate might say by putting a steaming hot large chunk of carrot in the offending open mouth. "We aint their mama and Daddy." He said with a very forceful huff. Nate just smiled amused, trying not to burn his tongue on the hot carrot, choosing not to make the comment likely to end up with him sleeping on the couch tonight.

Between the cooking, and the gardening, and the hair, and the backing up of Nate's plan, and not to mention how mother bear Eliot got if any of the others were threatened… well the team might have two dads but if anyone was the mom it was Eliot.

Apparently Eliot was not nearly as amused by that as Nate was.

Nate managed to finish the bit of carrot, still watching as Eliot worked over the pan. "What are you doing?" He asked after another few moments.

"Stir fry." Eliot answered. "Was workin' in the garden when Parker dropped by." Funny, before he'd worked with thieves Nate had never been used to the term "dropping by" being more or less literal. "She helped out for awhile but got hungry and said she didn't like raw vegetables but agreed to try some stir fry." Eliot reached up, grabbing something from the shelf above, twirling it before adding it to the pan.

Nate watched in silence for a moment or two, just taking in how relaxed Eliot was compared to earlier that night. There was still tension, still the usual watchfulness that Eliot never really lost, but it was eased off just a little bit, maybe a little bit more than before.

"Talked to Hardison." Eliot said, breaking the silence before Nate could figure out words. He turned from his food, pressing Nate into a chair at the counter before turning back. "Caught me checking up on him." He let out a long breath. "He… I told him 'bout what I dreamt last night." Nate tried to deny that it stung a little to know Hardison was the one Eliot had told. As if guessing, and really it probably wasn't hard to guess, Eliot continued. "It aint you Nate. Sometimes he comes to me when he has nightmares, I figured if it didn't go both ways he'd stop." He paused a moment and sighed. "and it helped."

Nate gave a bitter smile and rose from where he'd been sitting, wrapping his arms around the younger man. "Sometimes it does." He let one arm go, moving the pan off the burner before stepping back and nudging Eliot to get him to turn around to face him. As usual Eliot did as requested, though he avoided Nate's eye, looking around and away. "Eliot."

"What?" Eliot asked, a growl back in his voice as he finally met Nate's eyes.

"You're going to be fine." Nate stated calmly. Eliot started to say something but Nate shook his head. "No, you aren't fine now, but that's alright." He rested his hands on Eliot's shoulders and smiled. There was a little proof right in that motion. A month ago any contact, even Nate had caused a reaction. It had been so tiny only Nate or Sophie could see it but it was there.

It wasn't there anymore.

"Eliot, I've been sober. I've been drunk. I've tried drowning myself in a bottle and lost more than I already had in the process. I know what it is to not know what you can do besides try to keep control you've got left. It's always this hard. And sometimes time can only do so much." Nate sighed, watching Eliot resist the temptation to pull away, physically and emotionally. It was Eliot's habit to not deal, to push it away, to make it something else. It was how the black knight had been born and how he'd survived the years since with minimal emotional scaring considering circumstances.

Nate was about to say something when Eliot turned away, giving into temptation and running.

Eliot was almost to the door when Nate finally found words to say. "Eliot. Sometimes they lose to."

Eliot stopped and sighed, hand on the door knob. "Did you mean what you said?"

Nate didn't ask what Eliot was reffering to. They didn't always say what they meant and somehow this question meant a lot more than one thing. Did he mean it when he said Eliot would be okay? Did Nate mean it when he said he understood what Eliot was going through?

Did Nate mean it when he said he loved Eliot?

"Yes." Nate said simply.

Eliot sighed again and he turned the handle. "Take those down to Parker for me and make sure she eats them. " He was halfway out the door when he called back. "I'll be home in time to make dinner."

Nate turned back to the stir fry, poking at it with a spatula before putting it back on the heat. It was just a stir fry. How hard could it be? Certainly not as hard as getting Parker to eat some vegetables.

He wasn't sure where Eliot was going or what would be the fallout of this in the end. He wasn't sure if Eliot would be better or worse for the venture.

But Eliot had said he'd be home in time for dinner, and Nate knew that if Eliot said he'd be home he'd be there. They'd figure out what came next when it happened.

There were wolves in the world, and sometimes they win.

But sometimes they lose too.


	9. Thoughts on Kitchen Knives

**Notes: **Tag to The Three Days of the Hunter Job.  
Hey, everyone remember when I finished Fathers and Cell Number Eight and promised that I was writting another longfic called The Legacy Job? Well after a bit (read: More than is reasonable) of reaserch, lots of storyboarding, and figuring out how I'm going to tie everything together I have now started to write The Legacy Job. I hope to have the first chapter to my beta by friday and have it posted early next week. Keep your eyes open.

* * *

**Thoughts on New Homes, Old Rules, and Kitchen Knives  
**_Nate and Eliot have started to break some old rules. Sophie notices._

_

* * *

_

Sohpie sat, staring at the wrap up papers in front of her, not really seeing them. She was listening to Hardison and Eliot spin conspiracy theories to torment and entertain Parker. It took Sophie a long moment to recognize what about the scene was bugging at the edge of her concentration.

Another round of chopping started. Eliot had convinced Parker to try stir fried vegetables after the last job and to the entire team's amazement she hadn't just liked them. She now continually bugged Eliot to cook them for her. Eliot had even offered to teach Parker how to make them but she said no.

Sophie had a small suspicion it was the fact Eliot was willing to cook something specially for her as much as the food itself.

_Chop chop chop chop…_

It hit Sophie. The sound was different. Eliot had cooked in Nate's apartment dozens of times, feeding the team had been something he'd done even in L.A. and he'd taken up the habit almost immediately after they came back together. Sophie had never thought anything of it, even after she found out about their relationship.

But something had changed.

Sophie turned enough to be able to watch. Eliot was using new knives, different than the old battered ones Nate had had before. Sophie didn't know much about knives but she could recognize something that had probably been the result of a ridiculous amount of designing and engineering. Knowing from the set of knives Eliot had had in the Leverage Offices (that the rest of them had been forbidden to touch under threats that had even Parker obeying) they were probably worth about as much as the entire apartment and everything in it before Hardison had brought his stuff in.

And Eliot had put them in Nate's kitchen.

Sophie paused, thinking, remembering a conversation she'd overheard. Nate on his phone between the action of the job, talking to someone. He'd mentioned about how something was three times what he payed for rent, frustrated, but ended up agreeing to whatever had been going on. Sophie had figured he was buying a new coffee pot or something for the team or something.

Now though she watched Eliot feed Parker a slice of carrot and glance toward Nate, standing just a little bit closer to the hitter than most would find wise, and smiled.

Yeah, Sophie was pretty sure that even if Eliot would be the only one to use them he wasn't the one who put them there.

Nate clasped a hand around Eliot's shoulder and both Parker and Hardison paused their joking to make faces at each other like they'd just seen their parents kiss. Sophie caught an identical look of mischief cross both Nate and Eliot's faces in time to look away.

Judging by Hardison's "Hey! Not cool! PDA's are not allowed in the Bat Cave." And Parker's far too interested noise Sophie knew she had only just barely missed a kiss.

She was trying to be hands off, to let the both of them do this thing that seemed to be so good for both of them…

But she was only human, and it had been a lot easier while she was dating someone herself.

She turned back to her papers and sighed. Nate had once admitted to her they had half a dozen rules about the team and their relationship but it seemed slowly but surely Nate and Eliot were being more and more open about being together. They were breaking old rules, settling into new homes, and sealing the relationship with little gifts like Nate's new kitchen knives and the growing collection of first edition Sherlock Holmes books finding their way into Nate's book case.

They were settling in and sealing the relationship even as Parker and Hardison were taking the first few steps toward their own relationship.

They had all found something that made sense in their crazy worlds.

Meanwhile Sophie was losing her grip on what little had ever made sense in hers.

Not for the first time Sophie started to wonder just how much longer she would stay with these people who'd become her family.


	10. Rules of the Council

**Notes:** I enjoy writting but every so often you have a peice that you enjoy writting a little more than is generally reasonable with this sort of thing. This was one of those stories. This is one of my rare attempts at writting something *funny* that doesn't qualify as mood whiplash because the funny is mixed in with the death and darkness I normally enjoy. I don't know if anyone but me will think it's funny, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writting it.

* * *

**Rules of the Council**  
_Parker finds the Rules of Engagement_

* * *

It had been three days since the Hunter job. It was a random weekday afternoon, the entire team hanging out in Nate's apartment per usual. Nate was sorting through the contacts for their potential next jobs with Hardison, Sophie was reading over a script for her next play, and Eliot was cooking something in the kitchen that, judging by his insistence that under no circumstances should any of them sneak a taste test, Nate was pretty sure wasn't meant to be eaten.

That and the variety of ingredients on the counter that had labels indicating that, if swallowed, poison control should be contacted.

Parker was nowhere to be seen, but considering it was Parker, there was no real reason to be concerned. Chances were she was crawling through the air ducts or working on the various rigs she was instaling throughout the building for fast, unpredictable, exits in case of invasion.

Bit by bit they were all using their expertise to make this building into a fortress.

To protect their king. Their king and his knight and maybe themselves.

Hardison had managed to clear out the rest of the other residents and moved into one of the remaining apartments on the second floor. Parker had stolen the key to the cramped flat on the third floor across from the room Eliot had transformed into a training room. Nate was pretty sure she still had an apartment somewhere else in the city but she was spending most of her time in the building.

Sophie was the only one left to move in, and Nate had a feeling Hardison was going to be letting the expansive apartment that took up the rest of the third floor rest empty and waiting for as long as he needed.

Nate took another drink from his coffee and smiled. For a rare day the world seemed to be in order.

"I knew it!" Right on schedule Parker's voice shattered the peace.

They all turned to where Parker dropped out of an air duct, brandishing a yellow legal pad in the air. "I knew Eliot was a member of the council!" She started to flip through the pages and Nate realized, only belatedly, what exactly that particular pad was.

"Is that…" Eliot started, a note of alarm on his voice.

Parker stopped flipping, trailing her finger down the page. "It's the rules of engagement! Obviously it's the council's rules on his relation with Nate!" She looked up at Nate. "Are you a member of the council to?" She shook it off and turned back to the page. "Rule 36: There are times and places to get naked. These places include: Nate's apartment, Eliot's apartment, their apartment. These places do not include the office or any place in the office except for Eliot's office when the blinds are all drawn."

"Woah!" Hardison said, looking up his eyes wide. "Seriously? Is that what you guys… that's just na-"

Parker interrupted him. "Rule 37: A little pain can be a good thing so long as both parties involved have had a thorough discussion before hand and the Purple octopus has been addressed." By now both Eliot and Nate were moving quickly to snatch the pad from Parker who, seeing them coming, started to retreat to the air duct above.

Sophie and Hardison looked like they were trying to decide between being disturbed and laughing hysterically.

"Purple octopus?" Hardison finally managed. "I… what?"

"I'm guessing it makes sense in context." Sophie added, watching and Nate and Eliot tried to catch the blonde thief. "Though I have to wonder. Do you think it's a safe word or something?" Nate wasn't watching but he could hear the smirk in her voice. "Kinky."

Hardison had apparently decided to go with the hilarity of the situation and let himself be disturbed later. "Who do you think tops? I mean, seriously, neither of them seem really the sub type."

"I don't know Hardison, Eliot has always seemed somewhat eager to do as Nate told."

Both Nate and Eliot stopped their chasing of Parker long enough to shoot withering glares to the other two on the sidelines providing commentary. "We… just… no." Nate managed.

"It's an inside joke." Eliot more growled than said the explanation. "We were talking about Spicy food and there was…" He trailed off, probably realizing that the distraction had allowed Parker to escape to the air vents above.

"Eliot…" Parker singsonged from above. "You look like you need to remember rule 29: Eliot is not allowed to take his anger out on items in Nate's apartment."

Nate rubbed his forehead. "Alright, I see everyone is having their fun. Yes, it's a list of rules. It's a running joke between us. I wrote them down."

"Because you're a control freak who needs rules." Eliot muttered, clearly not above taking out his anger on the owner of the items in Nate's apartment.

"And they're private." Nate finished. "They aren't the rules from any council Parker. Just things for us to remember to keep things running smooth."

Parker dropped out of the air vent, but kept her distance. "I guess I understand." She admitted. "Some of these do seem pretty important to remember. Like the rule about letting Eliot know you're there before touching him." She absently rubbed her jaw at the memory of the first time she broke that one. "And I really agree with rule 22." She added.

"Rule twenty-two?" Sophie inquired.

"Nate is no longer allowed to wear ugly hats with leopard prints."

"So that's what happened to all of those." Hardison commented.

"I personally am glad you put your foot down on that one Eliot." Sophie commented. "They were hideous."

"Can we have the list back now Parker?" Nate prompted, distracting her from Eliot who was slowly inching forward.

"No. These are great! We should hang this up on the fridge with cute little magnets. Expect we'd have to cross out the rules about you having sex. Or we could leave them and maybe change a few words. Like rule 45: Nate is not allowed to surprise Eliot with a new toy when he's blindfolded. Though I..."

"PARKER!" The entire team shouted.

"Aww… you guys are no fun. Alright, I'll give it back to you." Nate breathed a sigh of relief. "If you two let me watch you make out." She added with much too much glee.

Nate closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. "Parker, I'm considering letting Eliot break rule 48."

Parker handed over the list and was gone almost before anyone could register her look of terror.

* * *

New Rules mentioned:

Rule 22: Nate is no longer allowed to wear ugly hats with leapord prints  
Rule 29: Eliot is not allowed to take his anger out on items in Nate's apartment  
Rule 36: There are times and places to get naked. These places include: Nate's apartment, Eliot's apartment, their apartment. These places do not include the office or any place in the office except for Eliot's office when the blinds are all drawn  
Rule 37: A little pain can be a good thing so long as both parties involved have had a thorough discussion before hand and the Purple octopus has been addressed  
Rule 45: Nate is not allowed to surprise Eliot with a new toy when he's blindfolded  
Rule 48: Unknown, but enough to scare Parker into submission


	11. Quiet at Day's End

**Notes: **Well, college has finally decided to stop eating me alive and let me get back to the important stuff. sorta.  
In any case after much struggling I finally got this piece written to my satisfaction. We've got five more tag fics for the three remaining episodes of the summer season. Depending on how the next season goes "The Way of Our World" the tag to The Lost Heir job may be the offical "end" of the Black King White Knight verse. However I'll still finish up Two Knights Opener and maybe add in a few peices here and there I missed the first time I ran through. I also have a baby plot-bunny idea for a long fic that would take place between Two Knights Opener and Black King White Knight.  
All in all there is plenty of goodness yet to come including more Legacy Job and maybe even a Parker/Eliot/Hardison fic.

* * *

**Quiet at Day's End  
**_After The Top Hat Job Hardison, Eliot, and Parker talk about (among other things) Nate/Eliot and "evil therapists" trying to brainwash Eliot._

* * *

After the job with the magic show was when Hardison made the decision that he would never want to be a hitter. Okay, so it was more during the job, when those goons were beating the crap outta him and trying to get him to tell them where the team was but after the job he decided it again.

They were all doing wrap up. Or specifically Sophie and Nate were doing wrap up. Parker almost never had any loose ends to tie up, Eliot mostly only had wrap up to do when they'd been on an extended con and needed to close out fast (then everyone did wrap up) or he had some people left to beat into submission.

Hardison normally had wrap up to do but Nate had given him a free pass to go check himself out in the bathroom and orders to get Eliot to take care of him if he was hurt worse than originally thought.

Staring at the mottled purple and blue bruises solidifying on his torso, a pattern they'd all gotten used to keeping in mind probably decorated Eliot on any given day (not that the stubborn bastard would ever let them see it but that didn't mean they didn't know it was there)…

Hardison came to two conclusions.

He was never going to be the team's or any team's hitter. He liked his body the way it was too much to let people use it as a punching bag.

He wasn't going to complain about injuries to Eliot unless there was a knife, gun, or a potentially lethal trip to the emergency room involved.

There was actually a conclusion 3 in there (It really sucks to get the crap beaten out of you) but he'd come to that conclusion on a few occasions before.

Hardison was just rebuttoning his shirt and getting ready to move on with life when Sophie knocked on the bathroom door. (And since when did he know who was knocking by the sound? _It's a very distinctive sound. _His internal Eliot told him.)

A moment later Sophie was letting herself in. "HEY! How'd you know I wouldn't be naked? That's not cool!" Hardison half shouted in surprise.

Sophie's grin in response did not make him feel better.

But after just a second the grin slipped away, replaced by a look of concern. "I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. It sounded pretty bad over the coms."

"I'm fine. Believe it or not I have been beat up before." He started before his mind ground to a halt and switched trains. "Wait. Over the coms?" Sophie nodded. "Shit."

Hardison hastened his attempts to button up his shirt while Sophie took half a moment to recover. "Whats wrong? You didn't realize we could hear what wa…" Her voice trailed away as she caught on and stepped out of the way. "He went up to the studio right after you came in here."

Hardison nodded and slipped out past her, into the apartment and out the door. A flight of stairs and stretch of hall later he let himself into the small studio apartment Eliot had been using as a training area.

He opened the door slowly, half expecting to find Eliot beating the hell out of the punching bag or one of the practice dummys, maybe going all samurai with one of the awesome swords Hardison was forbidden to touch or something. As usual since Hardison had found out about the Black Knight, River Tam came to mind.

He was almost done opening the door when he realized Eliot didn't have any behavioral conditioning (at least not that could be triggered by a safe word, the back of Hardison's mind added darkly) and if Eliot had gone Black Knight Hardison was so very screwed.

He had not expected to find the apartment's lights dimmed and the curtains on the windows drawn to darken the room further.

He had not expected to see Eliot kneeling in the middle of the floor, his legs folded under him, a look somewhere between frustrated, calm, and exhausted on his face.

The door closed behind Hardison and Eliot's eyes snapped open.

Like a great cat, slow and casually but still deadly, Eliot unfolded himself and rose to his feet with more ease than any man had a right.

Hardison had expected a lot of thing, but he hadn't expected the calm resignation on Eliot's face. "Come over here, let me see." Eliot turned, walking over to the strange lounge like chair with only minimal padding that had never looked particularly comfortable. When Eliot gestured to it with a half muttered "sit" and opened a nearby cabinent to pull out first aid supplies it occurred to Hardison that he could stop working on a medical ward for this castle. Eliot had that taken care of.

Catching onto what Eliot was thinking Hardison shook his head. "No, I'm okay man. I… actually came up to see if you were."

Eliot stopped, his back turned to Hardison and Hardison hadn't picked up enough to be able to read Eliot from behind. Hardison sighed internally. He was walking a potentially dangerous path, getting touchy feely with Eliot was Never easy, at least Eliot could look at him so Hardison could try to figure out the other's reactions.

"'m fine." Eliot said offhand, already putting the supplies away.

Before Hardison could think of something witty to respond to that with the door opened with Parker stepping in. "Elie I need to ask you a question." Parker blinked, probably noticing Hardison had intruded into Eliot's sanctum.

Wait… _Elie? _Was Parker seriously calling Eliot by his sisters nickname for him? And he was letting her? Was that a smile. What?

"Dude, did you dump Nate for Parker? Is that what's been going on?" Hardison said before he could stop his mouth from shooting off, the hurt and confusion in his voice more than he'd willingly admit.

Parker looked confused. "I was about to ask if he'd dumped Nate for you."

Hardison blinked. "Uh… what?"

"Well… he's a guy. You're a guy. Sophie said they broke up so I thought…"

Their conversation was saved from further devolution by a bark of laughter from Eliot. Two pairs of confused eyes went to Eliot as he shook his head, amusement and exasperation warring for dominance.

"We didn't break up." He stated after a moment. "I'm not sure what Sophie heard but whatever it was it wasn't that."

"She said she overheard you and Nate fighting." Parker explained. "On Monday. She came by and she heard you guys fighting through the walls about something and then you said you were leaving and would be back later for you stuff and you stormed out."

Eliot look confused a moment then, Hardison could have almost sworn, Eliot looked…

Embarresed?

"No. We did not break up." Eliot said, his frustration less than normal. "We were fightin' 'bout somthin' else."

"Oooh. Trouble in Paradise?" Hardison said before he thought to shut the hell up before he got himself beat up again. No wait. Eliot probably wouldn't kill him so he'd probably wait until Hardison was better before beating him up. Maybe that was enough time to earn forgiveness?

Eliot was giving his angry "I'm gonna punch something" look. Crap.

"Come on." Parker said teasingly, or attempting to be comforting and sympathetic. Hardison was never really sure. "What was the fight about? Please Elie?"

Eliot closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose (and seriously? Wasn't that something Nate did? Were they already picking up each other's mannerisms?) and didn't answer.

"Elie?" Hardison asked, a raised eyebrow aimed at Parker.

"Eliot said I could call him that." Parker defended. "When we were gardening together on the roof after the job with the FBI guys and the kids."

"When it was just the two of us." Eliot interjected. "I said, when it was just the two of us you could. There are three of us in the room."

"Oh…" Parker said, making a face and looking sideways. "Sorry Eliot."

"So" Hardison said in the silence that briefly followed. "Now that we've got the name game sorted out will you tell us kids what Mommy and Daddy were fighting about." Hardison knew it was a mistake before the words were completely out of his mouth.

Were there places in the world where you could hide from someone like Eliot? Did they have wifi?

Maybe he could convince Eliot he'd been hit in the head too many times and apologies latter?

Eliot took another long "I must not kill my team mates" breath, reigning in his temper, probably hampered somewhat by Parker muttering "Rule 41".

He took another long breath and spoke. "Nate wanted me ta talk ta someone alright?"

"Talk to someone?" Hardison asked. That was it? Wait. Talk to someone… "Talk to someone like a client or _Talk _to _someone?" _Eliot's glare told Hardison all he needed to know.

Hardison briefly entertained the idea of making a joke. The image of Eliot on a shrink's couch was begging to be mocked.

But…

It was three months since Kentucky and week or two under four months since the team had found out about the Black Knight. On the surface things were getting better, though there was looming trouble from Sophie's direction.

But they all knew on one level or another Eliot was doing "better" in as much as he wasn't a bad encounter away from falling apart or going black knight permanently like things had been back in Kentucky anymore. He laughed and fought and cooked and bantered.

But he also found his way down to Hardison's hacker's den in the middle of the night three or four times a week. He didn't even make excuses anymore, just let himself in and sat down in the sturdy wooden chair that had appeared after the second swivel computer chair that had previously appeared went ignored. A few minutes would tick by as Hardison ran a location check on the girls (easier now that Parker was spending most nights in her den on the second floor).

Most of the time after that Eliot would leave. Other times he'd sit in silence for a few minutes before asking Hardison what he was doing. He'd cut Hardison off, mid explanation, whenever it was something hacking related and utter two words that never really stopped catching Hardison off guard. "Teach me."

They didn't normally talk about the real reason Eliot found his way downstairs. They didn't normally talk about the nightmares that etched lines of exhaustion into Eliot's face when they went too long between jobs.

But Hardison knew, and he knew that it wasn't just him being more perceptive. If he was seeing even the few signs he was that Eliot was not okay Eliot was probably still much more messed up that he'd ever willingly admit.

Yeah. Hardison could tease Eliot about this. He probably could even get away with it alive.

But for once Hardison took a step back from his curious nature and desire to know the most he could about the team and admitted this wasn't his damn business.

Parker however. "Are you going?" She asked.

Eliot nodded jerkily before turning away. "Tomorrow's my second session."

"Do the have one of those couches? You really shouldn't lie on them. Or make them cover it with a blanket or something. I saw a movie once about those phyciatrists and their patients having sex on one of those. A lot of patients, a lot of sex." She paused eyes widening. Hardison could almost see her thought process jumping and skipping one train of thought to the next at random. "Eliot, be careful and make sure your therapist isn't evil and trying to brainwash you."

There was a moment of silence while Eliot and Hardison both briefly tried to catch up with Parker's train of thought, gave up, noted her earnest expression and somehow a hint of laughter bubbled up Hardison's throat.

A moment later a chuckle somewhere before amusment and that place where something's so ridiculous it's hilarious escaped Eliot.

"What?" Parker said, looking between them. Her confused expression caused the chuckles to grow into laughter. Real laughter, maybe not "carefree", but as close as they were likely to come. Even if Hardison had to wrap his arms around his chest, holding back the wince as laughter shook his abused frame he didn't care.

Eliot was not okay. Sophie was getting close to something and Hardison could only tell it would be bad. Six hours ago Hardison had come a good deal closer than was comfortable to being tortured. Nate's control freakyness was bordering getting out of hand and Parker apparently couldn't tell the difference between a movie the was likely a bad porno and reality.

Things on the team were, as usual, unstable at best.

But the job was done, the bad guys were punished, and food was safe. It was the end of the day and things might get better without getting worse first.

It felt good to laugh.

When the laughter had mostly died Hardison looked back at Parker to see an odd, almost satisfied look in her eyes. Like she'd just stolen something.

A moment later Eliot was telling him to take off his shirt (apparently the man had seen the way Hardison had held his ribs) and Parker left with a backward call that she'd give them privacy and would keep Nate occupied.

Neither of them said a word as Eliot helped him out of his shirt and sat him down. Reminded of why he'd come down in the first place Hardison felt a dozen questions and statements hovering at the tip of his tongue.

But calloused and scared hands ghosted their way over bruises, checking him over for serious damage even as Hardison noted for the first time that Eliot's knuckles were bruised and cut like they never usually were after a fight.

There was a lot that could be said, maybe even a lot that should be said.

But it was the end of a job and what should be said would be said soon enough and what could be said could wait.

It was the end of the job and for once Hardison felt no need to disturb the silence.


	12. Need and Compulsion

**Notes:** Hey ther, been awhile? I think in my last post I said we may be coming up on the end of this little verse. However I realised that there has been something I've been promising to do and (lets be honest) wanting to do since the bad old days of "Not Going Anywhere" and "Stay". Combine that with some information I now have put together and I think, so long as the new episodes don't throw my planning off too badly, that there will be at least three more of these little fics in this story (The Paradox of a Wolf at the Door, These Seats are Better, and The Way of Our World) and one long fic who's working title is Two Knight's Closing. Since bunnies tend to procreate rapidly when I watch new episodes there may be a couple other bits thrown in there to. But, unless the unthinkable happens, the first chapter of Two Knight's Closing will be posted on February 14th. Why? Read and find out.  
Also, this is a super drabble. 500 words.

* * *

**Need and Compulsion  
**_They're both damaged. That's normally half of why this works. This isn't normal._

* * *

Nate understood. Here in the dim light of not quite dawn, his fingers ghosting over bruises left on Eliot's skin by Raquel but not by any fight, he understood.

It was a need.

It was a need for things, to forget things… and Nate understood that need all too well.

Eliot's world was violent in ways Nate probably could never understand, in ways Eliot wouldn't let him understand.

Nate knew Eliot needed violence to survive in that world.

Nate knew Eliot needed control for his world to survive.

Nate understood that caused a paradox, that a part of Eliot was always leashed, always bound up. He knew having the team, having Nate, pulled that leash tight as a noose sometimes.

Nate knew Eliot needed to let that violence out, to forget about control, to forget responsibility and protecting the team and holding himself together so no one got hurt.

Nate knew that was one of a dozen reasons why hitters meeting up was as likely to end in fucking as it was in fighting.

It was a need.

In the dim morning light as Eliot stared at the ceiling next to him, guilt and relief not hiding the fact the tension always humming around Eliot body had faded, Nate told himself again. It was a need.

It was a need.

But no matter how many times he told that to himself the sight of her marks on Eliot's skin made him crave relief from this though his own old Need.

~*~

Eliot understood. Standing in the distance and watching as Nate nearly kissed Sophie, he understood.

It was like him and Amie. It was… it was a desire, a compulsion.

A compulsion to reach for something that had once been good, that had once felt right. That one thing that could have been, that Should have been.

That it was too late, far too late, to really have.

Sophie was for Nate what Amie had been to him, a last temptation, a last chance.

A last reminder of a missed opportunity.

The man who had flirted with Sophie across Europe but never cheated on his wife, the man who had almost settled down with Amie to raise horses and maybe kids…

Those good men who lived in worlds of good men and almost lives good lives.

Those men were dead and buried in the past.

But Sophie had said it right.

They were all addicted to their pasts.

Nate would always feel this compulsion, always move to kiss Sophie. He would always gravitate toward her because somewhere in his mind she would always be everything he had once had even if the reality couldn't be farther from the truth.

But Sophie pulls away from the kiss, sad smile on her face like she finally understands everything that's happened, like even as she leaves to find a self she understands she's come to understand them.

When she walks away Nate watches her go.

Eliot watches them and tells himself that he understands.


	13. The Paradox of a Wolf at the Door

**Notes:** Tag to The Ice Man Job I've had in my head since I first saw it. Works suprisingly well with a detail of The Lost Heir Job.

* * *

**The Paradox of a Wolf at the Door  
**_Their lives seemed to be a constant string of parallels and paradoxes._

* * *

It was ironic really, how their lives seem to constantly be running along parallels or in direct contrasts.

Like Sophie. Hardison remembered when they first got together, first ran a job together, it had been before Sophie. It was only after they almost died in an explosion that they pulled Sophie onto the team.

Was it strange that it was only after Sophie almost died in an explosion that she left the team?

Not left, took a break. Sophie would come back.

And Nate and Sophie too, though things made both a little bit more and a little bit less sense with Eliot and Nate.

Of course, it kinda reminded him of way back when he thought that Eliot and Nate were having their Unsatisfied Platonic Tension and it was Nate and Sophie with the Unsatisfied Sexual tension. Now Nate and Eliot's UPT had been satisfied in the sexual way (and yeah, mentally scaring images were still mentally scaring) while Nate and Sophie had been somewhat morphed into their own UPT.

He wasn't going to get into him and Parker and how they needed their own new category of acronyms to even begin to trying to give a label to how things are going (or not going) between them.

And then of course there was this. Now.

All of This.

Eliot is giving him that impatient look and Hardison moves. Eliot gives him that even more pissed off look and tells him there's something wrong with that and him. Hardison moves a different way.

But even that is another compare and contrast.

Eliot is still saying there is something wrong with them but it's gone from "you people are crazy but Nate says I'm not allowed to stab you for that" to "You people are crazy and I'll stab the first one of you who implies that I don't mind that much anymore".

It also, arguably, is why he managed to hug it out with Eliot earlier without getting his arms broken.

Secretly Hardison thinks Eliot liked it.

But he was going to avoid thinking of possible implications of that. Parker was already convinced there needed to be a threesome between Eliot, Nate, and him at some point and he wasn't giving the girl any more ideas.

Hardison tried something else and for a moment smiles at Eliot's approval before it morphs into that smug wolf-like grin and Hardison knew he'd done something only technically right.

And something about that made Hardison think of another contrast.

For all Eliot had complained and bitched (yes, bitched) about *not* saving Hardison, about Parker making him do it, about how Hardison needed to watch his own ass…

Hardison had never once even thought that Eliot wouldn't have willingly (though, not without bitching about it) laid his life on the line to get Hardison out safely.

The man did it every day of every job and it took something like this for Hardison to even really register it anymore.

Eliot was their protector. It was his job.

And on their first actual job on this team it had been Eliot who had told Hardison that he wouldn't protect them, wouldn't rescue them.

And back then Hardison believed him.

Back then that one moment had cut through all their mutual BS and Hardison had known if they were off the clock and Hardison called Eliot because he'd gotten in trouble Eliot would have hung up the phone on him.

Hardison had known in that moment that Eliot was and would always be the team's lone wolf, the guy who followed orders because it fit his agenda. He had been sure that every single report card Eliot had ever gotten had been marked in big red bold and capitol letters "Does not play well with others"

Hardison had known it in that moment.

Except that on the next job Eliot stayed behind and faced off with the butcher of Kiev because Nate asked and, really, if Eliot hadn't stayed they all would have been in trouble. It was The Butcher.

And then Eliot had sacrificed himself and gotten caught to get Hardison and Nate out and then…

And then the team happened and moments like that stopped being unusual.

Ever since Eliot had started telling Hardison bits and pieces of his nightmares during those 2:30 conversations they still had sometimes Eliot kept mentioning what Zoey back in that first job had said.

"There are wolves in the world." He never added the "but sometimes they're the good guys I guess" Part to the end.

And now? Hardison couldn't help making his own adjustment. There are wolves in the world, and one of them is guarding the door to Leverage Castle.

It was a paradox if you thought about it too hard, but so was everything else in this team really.

"Hardison." Eliot's voice breaks through his reverie. "When I offered to teach ya how ta play chess I didn't mean sit here while you spend the afternoon daydreamin'"

Hardison nods and looks back to the board, murmuring to himself like he was trying to remember which piece did what, listening to Eliot's explanation again when he touched a knight.

He wasn't sure if Eliot knew he actually knew how to play chess and was just humoring him or if Eliot actually thought he'd made it through twenty two years of geekdom without learning how to play.

What he did know was this was another parallel and perpendicular, another compared and contrasted.

Like a team without Sophie or a guarding the door. Past brought to present with another paradox, another logical conclusion.

And one more thing brought full circle.


	14. These Seats Are Better

**Notes:** Tag to the Iceman Job. Mostly just some schmoop.

* * *

**These Seats Are Better  
**_Eliot had to give up courtside seats, Nate tries to make it up to him._

* * *

It was quiet when Eliot let himself into their apartment that night. Tension hung in the air and around the hitter's body as he knelt down automatically to take off his boots.

Quiet and tense had been two words to describe their relationship for a while now.

Eliot didn't greet Nate as he made his way into the kitchen but Nate wasn't surprised. He knew Eliot's moods like he knew his own, maybe even better. There had been a close call today. Hardison had been taken and as much as Eliot had tried to joke about not saving Hardison…

Today had been a close call.

Nate got up and followed Eliot, standing in the kitchen door and watching Eliot bang around the kitchen. This was Eliot's Somethings-Bothering-Me state, soon to morph into him deciding to cook something (probably involving lots of chopping, grinding, and generally committing violence against food), which usually ended with Nate having a very good meal (possibly at four in the morning) and Eliot feeling better.

Even with the weird timing Nate found it difficult to have a problem with those turn of events if he already had to deal with an out of sorts Eliot.

Eliot had been out of sorts for awhile.

Before Sophie left he had been dealing with the aftermath of Kentucky. Nate had tried to get Eliot help but after three sessions Eliot had told Nate he wasn't going back and pulled out rule twenty-nine to keep Nate from asking for an explanation.

Nate had his own theories and even just the few vague answers he'd been able to get out of Stanley had more or less confirmed it.

But that was a subject for another time.

Then Sophie had left. Eliot had taken that hard. Eliot considered it his job to protect the team, the entire team, and now Sophie was very far out of reach and off her game.

Not to mention the fling Eliot had had with the Hitter girl and Nate's own almost kiss with Sophie…

Then today had happened and they'd almost lost Hardison.

He heard Eliot grumble about courtside seats and Nate sighed. They had been supposed to go together. It had been the closest thing to a date they'd had in… well a long time.

Which reminded Nate of what he'd done that afternoon.

Eliot was still in the bang around the kitchen state and Nate was starting to get the feel just cooking wasn't going to help very much.

Slowly Nate crossed the kitchen, resting a hand between Eliot's shoulder blades.

Eliot stilled, drawing in a long breath and letting it out as Nate's hand dropped to hold his and tug Eliot out of the kitchen to the living room.

Eliot let him lead them to the leather couch in front of the Tv and sat down. He was too quiet. Eliot was always quiet but there was a difference between that and this.

Nate slid a hand around the back of Eliot's neck pulling him closer and his face upward the space between them disappearing into a kiss. A moment lingered and passed before they shifted so the brief, almost chaste, brush of lips could morph into something more. Hands shifted to find a place or thing to hold onto and for just a moment they blocked out the rest of the other's world.

The moment passed but they stayed close, Nate's fingers trailed through Eliot's hair and up the side of his face, just barely brushing past the scar over his eyebrow. Gentle. They were rarely gentle but they needed it now. They needed this tonight.

They settled, Eliot leaning against him, nothing but the quiet of the night.

With his free hand Nate retrieved the remote and turned on the Tv, pressing the correct series of buttons to play the game they'd missed earlier. "Not exactly courtside" Nate said with a bittersweet tone in his voice.

"Nah." Eliot more mumbled than said. "These seats are better."


	15. Memory of a Gunman

**Notes: **Tag to The Lost Heir Job posted slightly out of order (should have been posted before Roar in the Night) but I'll correct that when I post the next chapter.

* * *

**Memory of a Gunman  
**_They've had a lot of close calls lately_

* * *

"Today was close."

The words, Nate's words, almost startle him out of the headspace he'd slipped into. He had almost been drifting off, "safe" in the bed he shared with Nate, the older man spooned up against his back, holding him, steady breaths soft against his neck a constant.

It was disarmingly normal, so much like any other night they shared when the team was stable and life bordered good.

"No closer 'n normal." Eliot mumbled back. Yeah. Today had been "close". He still could hardly believe their luck and come on, who besides Nate would discover an Actual Lost Heir.

But in the end everything had worked out.

And the team now even had a new grifter, though Eliot had mixed feelings about her and wasn't exactly alone but that was a bridge they'd cross or burn when they had to.

The job was over. Things had worked out. Everyone was safe at home (hell Sophie had even begun regularly phoning in to let him know she was safe).

"A little." Nate said, pulling him back again. Eliot had a growing feeling Nate had a point he wanted to make.

One Eliot wasn't too entirely happy about.

"We made it out alright." Eliot said. "Get some sleep Nate. Tomorrow we have ta start dealin' with Tara."

"Parker told me about what happened with the cops." Nate said, ignoring the suggestion.

"I don't fight cops." Eliot said, sharper than he'd meant to. He didn't, not if he had a choice. "'f Anythin' you should be talkin' to Parker. Girl's taser happy."

Nate was silent in response for a long time.

Just as Eliot thought he had fallen back asleep the response came, soft words barely above a whisper. "I know you were close to going Black Knight today."

Eliot's breath left in a hiss like he'd been sucker punched. Maybe he had. He certainly had been taken off guard. "I…" He started.

"Be honest." Nate said over him, voice just hintingly sharp, just barely reminding Eliot of the longstanding rule they'd broken not too many months ago that the first time Eliot lost control of The Black Knight was the day he lost his place on this team.

"It was close." Eliot finally muttered, admitting out loud why he had made such a point to not fight those cops. It had been too close.

And he wasn't letting The Black Knight loose on a couple of police, especially with Parker in the blast radius.

"What happened?" Nate asked, the unspoken questions of 'what pushed you that far' and 'how can we keep that from happening again?' very clear.

Eliot thought back, to the sight of the gunman with Nate in his sights. To the half a heart beat he froze instead of acting. To the surge of old fears and old… everything… that had gone through him as he flashbacked to the gunman in that job with the Private School and everything that had been going through his head then and the new fears of losing one of his people.

'If something happened to Nate, or Joey, or anyone on your team…' Stanley's voice floated through his head. _'if something were to happen…'_

After that half a heartbeat, after he'd reacted and moved… he couldn't remember. There had been a gap there between where he'd heard himself calling out to Nate and when he was regrouping with Nate and Parker that he couldn't remember like when the Black Knight took over.

After that everything had been a mess and mixed together and there had been too many questions to fight, too much of a chance it would happen again.

"What happened?" Nate asked again.

'_Do you really think you'd be okay?'_

Eliot opened his eyes, staring into the darkness of the room, the oblivion waiting there outside this one safe place, and answered.

"I don't know."


	16. Roar in the Night

**Notes:** Tag to The Runway Job. Also because FF formating hates me we won't be having the usual section breaks.

* * *

**Roar in the Night  
**_Five times Tara realized she should pay more attention to Eliot._  
_And one time he started paying attention to her._

* * *

The first time, well the first time it really registered over the roar of every thought and analysis and process going on in her brain as she adjusted to the new team and tried to put Sophies briefings to work, was after the first briefing.

Nate had just done his man of mystery routine, walking off without explaining who or what a Caprina was and she snarked to no one in particular.

The others gave her little amused responses, she'd been counting on that, anyone with a leader as eccentric as Nate Ford (eccentric wasn't the right word, but it made her feel better at the time) had to take a certain amount of amusement in making fun of his quirks.

What she hadn't predicted was that even as Parker and Hardison walked off, grinning about "Oh, she'll get used to him soon enough…" Eliot sat back, stretched his arms over the back of the couch and smiled a very different smile.

For just a moment Tara's mind went still and that single smile was like a roar in a silent night.

She didn't know what it meant quite yet but she realized she should be paying more attention to this man.

.........................................

The second time she realized she should be paying more attention to Eliot was when he came back downstairs after storming off, ripping away his scarf in the process.

He looked good coming back. He did look fashiony in the right ways this time.

And she wasn't even sure what had changed but the eyeliner was really starting to grow on her.

She watched from the side as Hardison glanced over, shook his head, and went back to what he was doing apparently unsuprised by the transformation.

She almost wondered if maybe earlier had been some kind of show…

Her half finished thought was cut off when Eliot walked past Nate and she caught Nate doing a double take. The man reached out unconsciously, fingers not quite catching Eliot's sleeve before pulling back. Eliot turned, almost like he sensed the movement (probably did, knowing hitters).

Tara couldn't see Nate's expression, but the smirk on Eliot's face spoke plenty.

There was something going on Sophie hadn't mentioned and Tara just needed to pay a little more attention and she'd find out what that was.

.........................................

The third time Tara realized she should be paying more attention to Eliot it was because she realized she wasn't. They were running the con and Eliot was playing Julian and for all the bust his attempts at "fashiony" things had been at first and all the dread she'd had for seeing him try to play a roll it took her until they were waiting for Gloria to show to realize it wasn't just that he wasn't bad at it.

He was Good at this part, better than any hitter she could remember running across. Most approached the con like they approached a fight, intimidating to sell their part and being as subtle as a 44 caliber to the knee.

But Eliot just sort of faded into the background. He did his part and then he just disappeared only when she thought to look for him he was right there, in sight. And while he played his part he hit the right pitches, not over selling or underselling.

And Nate didn't notice. Hardison acted like this was normal.

Later she actually asked Sophie why they needed a grifter and if Tara was there to make sure they didn't realize they had someone capable of running most of the grifts they needed done.

Sophie told her that Eliot already had a job, had something that barely allowed for the small roles he played in the cons, and one he wouldn't willingly give up.

His job wasn't to hit people. It was to protect the team, make sure they got in and out safely. That was his first, last, and for the most part only priority.

Sophie seemed to really believe that. Tara wasn't too sure.

Yet.

.......................................

The fourth time Tara realized she should be paying more attention to Eliot was somewhere between when Eliot muttered about how he hadn't dealt with cleavers in awhile and a few hours later when a very irate blonde thief was telling her off about ignoring Eliot's "I seen bad guys with guns" voice.

It didn't register at first, she was just pissed that Eliot was telling her what to do and assuming because she was a woman she couldn't hold her own in a fight.

She ignored his orders to stay behind him and let him protect her. He was a southern boy cow boy type, but if she could show him she could hold her own in a fight he'd respect her more. Ever since she had started paying attention a little more she'd been noticing Hardison and Parker tended to take their cues from Eliot when Nate was being unreadable.

She was pretty sure getting Eliot's respect would be the hard part and then the other two would, if not right out follow his lead, at least be given a solid nudge in the right direction.

So she fought and she won the fight and possibly Eliot's respect while she was at it and she almost missed the moment that reminded her not to make assumptions.

It was the moment when the guys with guns were coming in, before Nate came to save the day (sort of), when it looked like they were about to be unceremoniously gunned down…

Eliot could have run and probably made it out alive. They were twenty feet away in a warehouse crowded with cover and plenty of exits. Eliot could have turned and run and Tara gave him good odds that he would have made it out of there alive.

She however…

But instead of moving to run Eliot tensed, his eyes on the enemies, his body shifting closer to them unconsciously moving himself just a little more toward her as if to shield her.

He could have run but instead he moved instinctively to protect her and even though it was later while Tara was waiting for the pieces she'd put into play to come together and save her life or get her killed she realized Sophie wasn't the only one who believed Eliot's job was to protect the others.

He believed it too.

And that was more trust and loyalty than she'd seen from anyone on this side of the line in a long long time.

After Parker finished berating her about how it was important to listen to Eliot's "Guys with guns" voice and muttering about needing to resteal the Rules Tara asked Parker if there were any other "voices" she needed to listen out for.

Her only answer at that moment was "Nate's 'Eliot sees guys with guns' voice."

But Parker wouldn't tell her why.

..............................................

The fifth time was after the con ended and everything was settling down and she'd just finished her part of the wrap up. Hardison had told her that the upper floors of the building were empty of civilians and that a room on the third floor served as a training room for Eliot but the team was supposedly free to use it. She was heading up to check it out, slipping into the stairwell through a door who's silence when opening and closing reminded her of who controlled this building, when she heard voices from somewhere above her.

"Close call today." It was Eliot.

"Seems we're having a lot of those lately." Nate responded.

"Turned out alright." There was a pause, movement, sound she couldn't quite identify. "See… everythin's alright. Go finish the wrap up, make sure Hardison's not burnin' himself out." Another sound. "An' be quick 'bout it. I'll have dinner done in an hour and I still want to check you over."

Nate's voice had that note of oh-so-cleverness as he responded. "Right, for injuries." There was another pause and a sound Tara thought she may just recognize. She couldn't quite make out what was said next but the responding noise sounding a bit too like a moan sent her retreating out of the stairway as silently as she'd come in.

She'd really have to pay attention now.

..................................................

It was that night, very very late that night, when she realized she wasn't the only one paying attention.

In the early morning hours as she sat in the window seat of her condo looking out over the city, never one to deny the fact that night was the time for thieves, spies, and whatever you'd call her she heard a roar far off in the night.

While it might go unnoticed in the chaos of the day the sound of a motorcycle in the streets was hard to miss in the quiet of this hour.

She almost paid it no heed until it roared down her street and she saw Eliot Spencer drive down her block, stopping not far from her building.

He let the engine idle, his attention seeming to wander but she knew he was doing a sweep of the area, taking in the details and looking for something.

He looked up and saw her watching and made a hand sign in a code she didn't know how he knew that she knew that meant "All clear?"

The half begun suspicion that he was doing surveillance to take her out or something died and she found herself signaling the all clear back to him, watching as he kicked the bike back into motion and sped off without looking back.

It wasn't surveillance for a hit.

It was a bed check.

It would be a long time before she admitted to herself that that night was when she first felt like part of the team.

It would be a lot longer before she'd admit that she'd miss that roar in the night after her time on this team was done.


	17. House Rules

**Notes:** So I've had this written since about twenty minutes after I finished The Rules and was just waiting for appropriate timing. I only hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writting . Apparently I've let my posting to fanfiction fall behind. I will be attempting to correct this.  
Also, fanfic? The randomly bolding and rearanging of my stuff as I try to format this? Not cool.  
Okay. Seriously? Seriously. You really just deleted my author's notes? Sometimes I wonder why I bother with you. Right. The readers. Do it for the readers.  
Thank you for bolding what I asked you to bold and putting lines where I told you to. Good fanfic. You get a cookie.

* * *

**House Rules**  
_Parker gives Tara a cheat sheet._

* * *

There is only one person in the world that Tara would admit it to but she's not as good a grifter as Sophie. She likes to tell herself she makes up for it by being both a jack of more trades than her friend and by the fact she is a good deal more emotionally well adjusted.

She'll ignore how insane that in itself is considering her history.

But the fact remains that while she's doing, what she thinks is, a really good job getting used to the team and getting the team used to her by the end of their fourth job together officially there are still more kinks too be worked out than she likes to admit.

This, she assumes, is why halfway through wrap up Parker shoves a piece of yellow lined legal paper into her hand and then walks away.

She's still trying to get used to Parker.

She's still trying to get used to all of them.

But when she reads the paper she can't help but grin a little.

1. Control. Be ready to lose it sometimes but bad things happen when Nate loses it. Worse things happen when Eliot does.  
2. Trust.  
3. Eliot is not allowed to threaten death via office supplies to any team mate except Hardison. He's supposed to be setting a good 'not stabbing people with forks' example.  
4. Eliot cooks dinner but we all have to take turns doing the dishes.  
5. Nate drinking is a problem but he has his reasons.  
6. Don't bother Eliot when he's cooking. Especially if he's doing it to calm down to avoid losing his temper and harming you. Especially if he's holding a knife.  
7. The van is named Lucile. It's sensitive and has emotional issues due to separation anxiety from Simon. My plant.  
8. Hardison takes Dr. Who and Star Wars very seriously.  
9. Parker likes to hang from things and doesn't mean to spy if she does so outside your window.  
10. There is a secret. We're not supposed to let you find out until we trust you but I think that's stupid. Nate and Eliot are sleeping together. So there.  
11. Always let Eliot know you're there before touching him. This is another stupid rule for anyone but me because Eliot always knows when everyone else is there.  
12. No one but Eliot (and Hardison) is allowed to say that Parker isn't right. It's Eliot for "I love you (like a sister not like Nate who I'm fucking)" and it's kind of cute when Hardison does it.  
13. Hardison loves his nana and we aren't supposed to do anything to make him go against what she taught him.  
14. If Eliot gets hurt in a fight we aren't allowed to feel guilty and are supposed to pretend we don't know he's wearing a turtleneck in late summer to hide the bruises.  
15. Eliot likes horses. Do not hurt horses or he will hurt you.  
16. For the last time Nate moved above a bar. It's not that big of a deal people. Why do people have so hard a time understanding that?  
17. "Say the things you want to say. You might not get a chance to say them later. But don't say That Thing." I don't get this rule.  
18. Good manners are important and illegal downloading is wrong.  
19. Mix business with pleasure. It's the funnest way to do things.  
20. "Even though you don't say That Thing, find way to make sure he knows." I don't get this rule either. I should ask Sophie.  
21. Stealing all of Eliot's shirts is really really fun.  
22. Nate is no longer allowed to wear ugly hats with leopard prints.  
22 A. Eliot is no longer allowed to wear guyliner anytime Nate has to focus on something other than Eliot. Because apparently Nate has an eyeliner kink. This is good to know.  
23. Parker is no longer allowed to steal the clothing of her team mates. This makes her very sad until she remembers that as a thief some rules are supposed to be broken.  
24. Hardison is no longer allowed to make jokes about gay steryotypes unless he wants Eliot to beat him up, because he and Nate are fucking each other (They're GAY).  
25. Don't underestimate Eliot. He's really really smart and really really good at hiding it.  
26. Hardison is not allowed to play the grifter ever again.  
27. "Don't touch the women, but they can grab whatever they want to." I think I heard a song like this.  
28. Nate is not allowed to take his anger out on Eliot. People on the team aren't allowed to hurt Eliot. Or I will cry inside my special angry place and steal everything they own.  
29. Eliot is not allowed to take his anger out on objects in Nate's apartment. Or Hardison.  
30. If Nate asks 'are you hurt' he expects a yes or no answer followed by an explanation of how badly if that answer is yes. Growling something inaudible and going into the bathroom is not an acceptable answer.  
31. If for our post job meal Eliot A) is using boxed anything that he could, relatively easily, make from scratch B) is making something that requires almost no prep or C) accidentally burns something we will all assume he is far more injured than he lets on and decide we want to order pizza and hide the ingredients for pizza so he lets us order in.  
32. We aren't allowed to get hurt. It makes Eliot upset.  
33. We will not make verbal note of Eliot's tendency to take care of people.  
34. Hardison is not allowed to get drunk and talk in cling on.  
35. We're all allowed to do side jobs so long as Nate doesn't know and we are ready to do a job when one comes up. Also as long as none of us get caught or hurt.  
36. There are times and places to get naked. This is another rule that can be fun to ignore.  
37. Eliot likes doing what Nate tells him. Nate likes telling Eliot what to do. Hardison says this makes them kinky and that I should never watch them having sex.  
38. Hardison isn't allowed to try to send Nate and Eliot to a gay bar even if it's their anniversary.  
39. People really shouldn't argue while in the middle of a con. It's distracting.  
40. Eliot has friends everywhere. The most unthreatening of which could probably still kick your ass. Hardison also has friends everywhere who can destroy you without ever seeing you.  
41. We really need to stop having people hit by cars.  
42. There is no answer to life the universe and everything. Hardison says this rule is proof Nate is secretly a geek.  
43. Eliot makes awesome food.  
44. The shiny is important.  
45. Hardison likes having new toys.  
46. Nate will remember that Eliot could beat the shit out of him if the desire ever struck and won't get cocky about the fact Eliot lets him be the boss and be on top.  
47. We protect Eliot.  
48. Eliot is not allowed to do THAT THING EVER.  
49. Nate should really start calling Maggie his EX-Wife.  
50. Even with broken ribs and a concussion Eliot could and would take out more than six guys to protect the team. Nate should never forget that.  
51. It's undetermined if there is an injury or combination of injuries that could stop Eliot from protecting Nate because even if they won't admit it they're repelling together.

Okay, she can't help but inwardly grin a lot over having conformation of her theories and the fact that Parker is adorable in a psychotic sort of way.

But, outwardly, she grins a little.

She may not be as good a grifter as Sophie.

But Parker just gave her a cheat sheet.


	18. The Distance Between Two Points

**Notes:** Takes place not long before The Bottle Job but isn't really a tag. Also this little fic was brought to you by the wikipedia entry for Parkour and TV Tropes which was how I found out about the concept. Out of courtesy to fellow addicts I have refrained from linking.

* * *

**The Distance Between Two Points  
**_Parker has been a student of Parkour for years so she likes to believe she's an expert when it comes to crossing the distance between two points._

* * *

Parker was seventeen when she first heard the meaning for the word "Parkour".

Or, as she likes to think, when she first heard the word for the meaning.

Parkour: a physical discipline of training to overcome any obstacle within one's path by adapting one's movements to the environment.

If that environment happens to involve obstacles like people, park benches, parked cars, moving cars, buildings, overpasses, rooftops, small bodies of water, and or sky scrapers it doesn't really matter. Or is the matter she supposes.

After all Parkour is, in simple terms, the art of efficiently crossing the distance between two points in a straight line.

For years Parkour was Parker's general approach to all aspects of life. She found the most direct route and went.

It didn't work as well with people as with thefts or evading the police but that didn't really bother her too much.

At least not until Chicago and Nathan Ford. Not until Sophie and Eliot.

Not until Hardison.

It took her awhile, a few lessons on acting from Sophie (con acting, not horror movie acting), and some time when they'd gone their own ways after the David jobs to realize that she may have been ignoring a key part of Parkour.

It wasn't just about crossing the distance between two points.

It was about how you crossed that distance.

Hell. She was starting to think maybe it was about the distance itself.

Maybe that was why Sophie had gone to Europe. Maybe she thought if she made the distance big enough she'd be able to see it clearer and tell where along the line the distance between her and Nate became something she couldn't cross and what the new point she was moving toward was.

Maybe it was the reason Eliot wouldn't move to sit next to her on the couch during the briefings with Sophie gone and why she felt a little better when Hardison did. It felt like he was changing the distance between where they were and where they were going.

Maybe it was why they had all officially moved into the same building. Even she had. They had started before but after Sophie left it became something official. They needed the distance between their points to be as little as possible while being a distance.

She shook her head. Her metaphors were starting to confuse themselves. She needed to stop thinking.

Maybe she should steal something.

She looked up from where she'd been absently sketching on a bar napkin (the floor plan for the Smithsonian museum on natural history's gem exhibit) to the others scattered around the bar. In her mind she traced the paths between herself and their points.

Hardison was closest, hovering a little ways away chatting to the bar keeper. There were only a few barstools between her and him. Easy to cross.

There was also the canyon between the roof tops of two skyscrapers made out of things that she couldn't seem to say or figure out and what he couldn't say and wouldn't risk and their only chance to cross it was repelling. But that was a different kind of distance she was trying not to think about tonight.

Tara was second closest, sitting at a nearby table finishing her drink and getting ready to leave. They'd finished their fourth job together not long ago and it seemed like Tara lingered just a little longer after every job. There were two chairs, nine feet, and one person between her and Parker.

There was a larger distance between her and the rest of the team but they were shortening it every day.

Nate and Eliot were the farthest from her, standing together on the far side of the bar, not being very subtle about the fact they'd done away with the distance between the two of them a long time ago. There were three tables, roughly twenty two feet, four chairs, and one person between her and them. Of course, judging by how close they were sitting together there was quite a bit more mental distance between them and her.

Being "A million miles away" was a metaphor that had actually always made perfect sense to her.

She knew Eliot was still aware, even if Nate probably wasn't paying attention. As if on cue he looked over to her and raised an eyebrow that asked why she was watching him.

She gave a devious smile and looked back down to her napkin.

He'd worry about what she was up to for the rest of the night.

A few moments later, though, he turned away from her and Nate when a man entered the bar.

Quickly but easily Eliot slipped away from Nate and greets the new man. Judging by the broad shoulders yet casual danger in his stance probably one of his old hitter friends. They show up from time to time.

He had blue eyes like Eliot, Parker noted, absently wondering if all hitters have blue eyes.

Parker couldn't hear what they were saying but she saw the distance between their two points was unusually close. Eliot normally kept his distance farther than that.

Nate came over, moving in close to Eliot and even Parker recognized a claiming of sorts though she half wondered if Nate did.

If Eliot's slight half step away was any indication Eliot at least recognized it.

Parker watched as introductions were made and some sort of playful argument broke out between Eliot and his friend. Nate didn't seem amused though.

He seemed less amused by the second.

Then Eliot went to leave with the other guy and Nate said something, putting a hand on Eliot's shoulder.

Eliot paused only long enough to give Nate a look before stepping away and leaving with the other guy, laughing at something as they stepped out the door.

Something inside Parker twisted painfully as she watched, the distance between Nate and Eliot widening suddenly with nothing she could do.


	19. Ten Seconds

**Notes: **Tag to The Bottle Job. Also a super drabble (five hundred word segments to be exact).

* * *

**Ten Seconds  
**_Eternity in ten seconds_

* * *

It's somewhere between taking down her hair and pulling up her skirt, somewhere in those ten seconds between when she starts to fall into character and when she approaches the mark that she realizes she doesn't hesitate anymore. As eccentric as Nate is, as crazy as his crew is, she's started to take her cues from him without question.

She files that thought away before she even finishes the breath it was born on.

When she's starting to con a mark isn't the best time to be dealing with the realization that she may be starting to trust this crew.

**oOo**

"Tara knows." Parker tells him when they're heading upstairs. "Tara knows so you can stop flirting."

It takes a moment for Eliot to register what Tara would now know, and a moment longer to follow Parker-Logic, but then he shakes his head. "That aint why I'm flirting." He says.

She looks at him questioningly and but he doesn't explain.

A possessive hand on his shoulder, Nate's growing need for control, and the valentine's day cards he saw in a store earlier.

"Oh." Parker says, like life makes sense now, and then slips away.

God Eliot wished it was that easy.

**oOo**

It's a short moment. Longer than it would take to fall from most short buildings but still pretty short.

But she feels something like she's falling.

Hardison takes a box cutter to the back of Old Nate and Parker's heart clenches and she's crossing the room in what feels like slow motion.

Then Hardison shows what he's really doing and asks them if they thought he was sentimental.

She doesn't answer. She can't. She's hurting in her special angry place.

Beside her Eliot is silent. He understands.

Wherever Old Nate is the team is.

And where they are is home.

**oOo**

He can feel Eliot's eyes on him.

He can hear the silence of the team, holding their breaths, waiting for impact.

He feels the weight of the glass.

He feels the weight of Eliot's gaze.

He can see Cora among the guests, trying not to let her panic and worry show through.

He feels the slosh of liquid in the glass.

He feels his heart beat, his breath catch.

He hears Sam flat line, sees Eliot's skin bruised and bloody, young eyes dark.

He remembers blissful nothingness.

He feels glass against lips and the burn as something inside him gives.

**oOo**

Hardison holds his breath, feeling ten seconds ticking by too fast.

Time always seems to pass too fast.

Things always pass too fast.

Nate sober had passed too fast.

The team being together and all good and all happy always passed too fast.

And when the clock was ticking down and the job was going south and they had to rely on an inebriated Nate to pull through time always passed too fast.

Then Nate makes the bet and Hardison celebrates.

Time is passing too fast, as always, so he'll celebrate this victory.

It may be awhile before the next.


	20. The Way of Our World

**Notes:** Tag to The Zanzibar Marketplace Job.  
So this is it. After this is the start of the long promised Two Knight's Closing.

* * *

**The Way of Our World  
**_Their world has changed_

* * *

They don't play chess as much as they used to. Life, jobs, the team… it just gets in the way.

But they try to sit down for a game at least once or twice a week.

Chess has always been the language they speak to each other that has the fewest misunderstandings.

So it's not unusual for Wednesday night to find them sitting on either side of the chessboard, Nate playing black as usual, the quiet settling around them much easier than the week was settling in their minds.

Or the past few weeks.

Or months.

It had only been an hour since the team dispersed and Maggie left for her hotel. Eliot had been all for just going to bed but Nate had wanted to play chess.

Eliot figured it was Nate's way of checking up on him to make sure that after everything that had happened Eliot was okay.

The concern was nice but Eliot had an agenda of his own and no part of it involved making it easy for Nate. Eliot wasn't angry at Nate persay but if he was honest with himself he had to admit there was a lot of scattered bits of resentment that had been building up for the past few weeks.

"You called her your wife again." Eliot said, finally breaking the silence and making his first move.

"That's not what's bothering you." Nate answered making his own opening move.

"You should still stop doin' that." Eliot shot back moving his knight.

"Two knight opener I see. Old favorite." Nate countered. They seemed to be moving into a game of speed chess. By now they were so familiar with each other's strategies the games went by much quicker, victory depending as much on their ability to think like someone else as it did on predicting the other's next move. "And you should really stop flirting with anything that moves."

"I haven't broken any rules." Eliot said, countering Nate's play for his knight by pushing a pawn.

"Yeah, but I still can't figure out why you've been making such a point about it. Is it Tara?"

"She knows man, she's known since the first job. We aint exactly subtle anymore." He shook his head frustrated. "Protect your knight."

Nate paused, distracted by the impending threat to his piece and wondering when this conversation had taken this turn. Hesitantly he moved a bishop into play, seeing moves tick off down the line, direction of the game changing. Eliot's momentum was about to be broken.

Eliot paused a moment, contemplating his next move on the board and off. He nodded to himself and sent his queen swooping across board to take a pawn.

"I'm going to need a couple weeks off." Eliot said, almost as out of the blue as the queen had come from. "The seventh to the nineteenth, might be able to work it a few days on either side but no later than the tenth and no earlier than the eighteenth."

The game slowed, Nate was still trying to figure out Eliot's motivation both on and off the board. "You know I don't let you guys take outside jobs that interfear with our work. I can't exactly give you special treatment."

"It's not a side job." Eliot said after a pause, fingers tapping the table on his side of the board, Nate just starting to notice the tension humming around his body. "Every year no matter what I'm doin' I take a week or two off this time of year. I need it ta keep my head on straight. Call it sick leave."

Nate hesitated but couldn't exactly argue. For all the times Eliot fought through injuries to keep the job going if he needed time off to get himself squared away… Maybe the time was for getting a full medical work up? He practically had a frequent flyer account with the local hospital's MRI. Or maybe it was just time to let himself process and work through everything he'd been through in the previous year to better be able to face the next.

A darker feeling nudged at the back of his mind but he put it aside for later. He had a hint of a suspicion but would need to check to be certain and really he probably shouldn't. If it was what he had a faint idea it might be it was none of his business if Eliot needed to be alone for a while.

Nate stayed quiet, looking at the chess board, and wondering why he was having such a hard time figuring out Eliot's strategy tonight.

He picked up his glass and winced internally when he realized between the wrap up for when they saved the bar and the mess with Maggie and Sterling they'd just gotten through… He hadn't played chess with Eliot in a little over a week and a half.

Not since he'd started drinking again.

And wasn't there a rule about this? He wasn't supposed to play chess with Eliot unless he was sober or felt like getting his ass handed to him.

It occurred to him maybe that was what was bothering Eliot, maybe even why he'd been flirting so much lately.

The memory of the flirting brought Nate back to the reason he'd wanted this game and conversation. Carefully he moved a piece to protect his knight and said. "I figured I should ask how you are."

Eliot watched the move, listened to the words, and cursed inwardly. His momentum was, for the moment, broken. "How I am?"

"You did well with Sterling." Nate said, a hint of something in his tone that something in Eliot's chest responded to with a matching hint of warmth.

"Well, you asked me not ta do anything violent." Eliot said with a smirk but the joking didn't really hide the undertone, the remembrance of an unspoken promise.

"No hint of the black knight?" Nate asked and Eliot nodded. He'd been pissed but he'd managed to keep a clear head. "And when we were kidnapped?"

Eliot paused a moment longer before answering slower. "I had a job to do. As long as I did, s'long as I could focus on keepin' my head in the game I was okay."

Nate smiled and moved his bishop, taking a knight. "Sometimes we do win."

Eliot matched Nate's smile with a grin watching his plans unfold on the bored, his queen coming out of nowhere to take the bishop. "But aren't we the wolves?"

"The good one's remember?" Nate reminded Eliot absently, looking back over the board and conversation before sliding his queen across and landing the king in check. "All five of us."

Eliot looked up from the board, surprised.

He'd been checked in more ways than one.

"What?"

"You know all five of us are wolves. Not just you." A beat, a moment of indecision and Eliot saw the moment Nate decided on a course of action. "…Our world has changed you know."

Eliot watched him, trying to understand and feeling like he didn't want to.

Nate tapped his fingers on the chess board. "Do you remember the conversation we had when the team first came to LA?"

"Yeah." Eliot said, not for the first time thinking maybe he should just drop the act entirely with them and let everyone know chances are if he was there he remembers the details perfectly. "We played chess and talked about the way of the world."

"And we talked about how you wouldn't protect the team."

Eliot let out a little huff. "Alright, things have changed a bit."

"You protect us now." Nate told him strangely soft.

"It's my job." Eliot finally found a piece and moved it.

"And it's our job to protect you." Nate countered the move in just a moment, pressing the advantage.

Eliot didn't know what to say to that.

"And help you." Nate faltered for just a moment before adding. "Will you let us do that job?"

"What?"

"The time you're taking off… is it when…"

Eliot felt his stomach jerk and turn, a hint of anger and a bite of hurt springing up from the place that mess was long buried.

From the look on Nate's face Eliot's reaction was all the answer he needed.

"Can we…" Nate faltered and shook his head. "Can I… will you let me be here for you?"

Eliot looked down to the board. "It was valentine's day Nate." He could almost see Nate's reaction even if he was pointedly looing away. "The first time was the night of Valentine's Day. There was a party next door and I could hear the music through the window. I spend it out of the country in whatever backwater hellhole I can find where no one celebrates it and there are people who'd better serve the world dead. I'm not that nice ta be around around then Nate."

He made a move and looked up.

Nate caught Eliot's eyes and held them. For a moment he could see the ghost of a young boy he had thought they'd finally laid to rest after Kentucky and again not too long ago when Eliot seemed to be getting better.

Eliot functioned best under pressure and these past few weeks had been nothing but pressure. One thing had gone wrong after another and Eliot was a professional. When the job or life itself went south he pulled himself together and kept his head down and did his job as best he could.

But this moment right here, when that haunted look he'd had in his eyes before he left for Kentucky reflected back at Nate every horror Eliot had been through and was always, *always* keeping inside and fighting alone…

"Please. Eliot. Let us do our jobs."

Eliot's hand moved but instead of moving a piece he knocked over his king. "I can't." He said simply. "It's my job to protect this team, even from me." He got up and went for the door. "That's the way our world works."


End file.
